Rivalry (War of Nytefall Book 3)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  War of Nytefall:

  Rivalry

  Copyright 2019 © by Charles E. Yallowitz

  Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design & Illustration by Alison Hunt

  Dedication

  To everyone who has entered Windemere

  And left their mark upon its soul

  War of Nytefall

  Loyalty

  Lost

  Other Works

  Legends of Windemere Series

  Life & Times of Ichabod Brooks

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Prologue

  Built in the middle of lush farmland, Freemason has become a central hub of activity on the continent of Canst’s Fields. With its stone buildings and cobblestone roads, the city looks out of place among the beautiful fields and pastures. Many travelers have noted that there is a clear border where light-colored dirt meets the richer soil that is native to the region. There is a rotting port on the northern border and the sandy earth is full of shells, which reveals that the blossoming city once stood on the coast. Having been moved inland by the Great Cataclysm, Freemason has struggled to adapt to its new environment and role as an essential source of produce and livestock. Having been a society of fishermen for centuries, the locals have spent the last two decades learning how to work the land and raise animals that they never used to give a second thought. Barns and silos have been built out of old ships with the sails having been transformed into tents that are scattered throughout the region. Unable to entirely rid themselves of their love of the sea, a manmade lake has been created beyond the eastern fields. Stocked with salmon and maintained by the elders, many visitors and locals can be found relaxing on the shore with fishing rods. Regardless of the chaotic appearance of the terrain, there is an aura of peace that flows off the smiling faces and laidback pace of the city.

  While not in the light, those who lurk beneath the surface of Freemason share in the joy of living in a bountiful region. The Dawn Fangs and their obedient mortals have been pilfering the city for the last six months. Knowing that they have to keep a low profile, the thieves have stuck to pickpocketing and the occasional burglary. Some have managed to hold down real jobs to use for cover and keep an ear out for potential targets. Regardless of its simplicity and small scale, the gang is very proud of their effective information network. It has helped them stay alive and avoid breaking the most important law of Nytefall, which is to remain a secret. None of the vampires wish to be called back to for one of Clyde’s infamous chats that some have never returned from hearing. Most of their outings are to get the essentials, but the gang routinely chooses one day a week to pull a heist for treasure. While most of the locals know there is a guild in the area, the guards have been unable to find the smallest clue as to where the criminals are hiding. With all of the thefts happening in the city, nobody considers checking beyond their borders.

  Sitting in the middle of an apple orchard, a giant boulder has remained untouched by the farmers. Too large to be moved by anyone weaker than an ogre, the stone hides the entrance to a vertical shaft that is only four feet across and fifty feet down. Leading to a pile of soft dirt, the tunnel develops a gradual slant until it becomes a short hallway that ends at a wooden door built into a stone wall. The hideout is really a cellar that was once connected to the largest estate in the city, but had been separated by the shifting earth. With all of the chaos that ensued after the Great Cataclysm, the disappearance of the subterranean chamber went entirely unnoticed. The new owners have partitioned off parts of the former basement to create individual quarters, a treasure horde, and a larder that surrounds a circular communal area. Much of the furniture is what they discovered in the hideout, but they have added tapestries that act as doors to other rooms. Lacking vents for smoke to escape, they are unable to make a fire, so they depend on glowing stones for light. The effect is that the lair maintains an amber hue that the gang members have only recently become used to.

  “We had a good haul today, Narwid,” a one-armed man says as he finishes counting the treasure. With a snap of his fingers, the mortal gets the rest of the gang to surround the money and he swiftly divides it evenly. “I’m putting my money towards getting a better pantry. The one we have is attracting mice and it’s something that’s too big to steal. Do you still want me to put your share towards the glass orbs?”

  “I wonder if this is how Lord Clyde started out long ago,” a brown-haired Dawn Fang whispers while he rubs his pointy ears. Hearing his partner cough, he snaps out of his thoughts and replays the last few minutes of time in his head. “Sorry about that, Ralgin, but I was daydreaming again. Yes, I want to get those orbs either by buying or stealing. If we can place them in the ceiling then we can get natural light and they’ll absorb the smoke from fires. Our hideout is fine for the basics, but it’s missing so many comforts. Not to mention your kind will have trouble during the winter. Why are you smirking?”

  “Dawn Fangs are so oddly mortal that I forget all of you are vampires,” the man replies with a smile. Making a final note in his ledger, he puts it in a desk drawer and sits down with a low groan. “I have a few hours before my shift at the messenger service. Word has it that a caravan is coming to trade with Mayor Hyrgin. My hope is that they’re coming from Gaia or one of the Cerascent kingdoms since Canst’s Fields is still a mess. Either way, I’ll be listening for information on what they’re carrying, so maybe we can pull off a heist in a few days. Probably won’t be anything too big.”

  Watching his men head into their rooms, Narwid pays extra attention to a slender Dawn Fang. “Vashif has been working out very well for us. I’m surprised how quickly he moves and nobody notices him even if he’s in the open. That’s a womb-born for you. I want him on the heist. Not only because he’s the best one we have, but I want to see how he does leading part of the team. If things work out the way I think they will then I might have a special position for him. Rumor has it that a new city is being built in the northeast and I’d like to get our hooks into them from the start. You and I need to stay here where the main work happens, but Vashif might be the perfect choice to lead an offshoot. Besides, this place is too small for us to grow locally, so we should try to make ourselves more of a network.”

  “Would Clyde be okay with that?”

  “The big rule is to keep our presence a secret.”

  “In that case, I would ask that you hold off for another month.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Vashif is talented, but he can be a little arrogant in the field and that can lead to risks if one of us isn’t there to temper him.”

  “I see . . . Well, we’ll test him soon anyway.”

  Ralgin
is about to suggest a smaller job when he hears a strange sound coming from the nearest room. Seeing that Narwid has heard the noise as well, he holds up his hand to stop his leader from investigating. Even though the Dawn Fang can handle himself, the mortal feels honor bound to get his club from a table and take the lead. Bowing to the amused vampire, the man casually swings his weapon at his side as he approaches a colorful tapestry that depicts an exploding rainbow. Before he can push the entrance aside, Ralgin catches the same noise coming from the room next door, but it ends with an odd rattle instead of abruptly cutting off. The gang leaders exchange worried glances, which deepen when more of the sounds emerge from their friends’ quarters. Some end quickly while others carry on for several minutes, which begin to include muffled voices that are vaguely familiar.

  Worried that they are under attack, both thieves hurry to the only room that has remained silent. Tossing the starry tapestry to the side, they watch as the young woman inside leans over to kiss a large emerald. The mortal’s eyes are glassy and she shows no sign of recognizing that she has company, her attention solely on whatever she sees within the flawless facets. As her lips start to leave the jewel, they stretch and create a sucking noise that Ralgin and Narwid recognize as the strange sound. The mesmerized thief’s body is gradually drawn into the emerald, but the process stops once her upper torso has been completely absorbed. Seeing an opening to free their friend, the panicking leaders hurry to grab the woman by the legs and pull her out of the gem. No sooner have they touched her than they hear a gentle sigh and the mortal suddenly bursts into a curtain of crimson powder. For a brief moment, they see a pair of golden eyes in the emerald, which cracks and crumbles into a pile of worthless rocks.

  With a guttural snarl, Narwid bends down to touch the layer of red dust and licks some of it off his finger. His mouth is filled with the taste of blood as if he has swallowed a mug full of precious ichor. After signaling for Ralgin to stay where he is, the Dawn Fang moves at a dizzying speed to check the other rooms. All of them are empty with only a few having the powdered remains of his mortal friends. The quick search gives him no answers, which stirs his primal rage to the point where his fangs are peeking out of his mouth. It is only when he sees the fear and worry on his partner’s face that Narwid manages to get himself under control and takes a seat in his favorite chair.

  “We were targeted by somebody,” the Dawn Fang states with a shrug. Cringing at how anyone could figure that out with a mere glance, he pulls out a flask and takes a sip of fae water to calm his nerves. “Maybe Lord Xavier found out about us and set a trap. Although, he typically sends Decker to Canst’s Fields, so this doesn’t feel right. Don’t look in the rooms, Ralgin, because the traps may still be active. The only reason I was safe is because I moved too fast to get caught. Looks like your kind were turned to dust while mine are gone without a trace. I can’t tell who the main target was, which is frustrating. Did this mystery person want to kill mortals or contain Dawn Fangs? Are they even trapped because all of the gems have turned to rocks? This is beyond my knowledge and abilities.”

  “Nobody in the area has this kind of power,” Ralgin quietly says. Sitting next to his friend, he lets his club thud to the floor and leans forward until his head is between his knees. “It happened so fast. They were with us no more than ten minutes ago and now everyone is gone. I think we should report this to Nytefall. You keep telling me that now is not the time for mortals to see your home, but I ask that you take me along. This place isn’t safe and I want to make sure you reach the hidden city without incident.”

  The vampire cannot stop himself from chuckling at how his friend is speaking sternly while trying not to vomit from shock. “I’m sorry, but Clyde would punish both of us. It is risky enough that we work together, which took a lot of explaining on my part. Chastity Sullivan had to back me up and I doubt she will be of help for such a breach of protocol. You are right that this place isn’t safe, so I want you to go to the new city. Once I’m done reporting to Nytefall, I’ll return and we can set up a new gang. Maybe I’ll find some fresh recruits while I’m home.”

  “As you wish . . . Wait, I think there is something you should take,” the exhausted man claims as he heads for the treasure horde. Knowing exactly what he is looking for, he leans inside to grab two small bags, each one no bigger than a cantaloupe. “These are our shares of the latest haul, which held those trapped gems. I’m sure each of us received one as well. Take these to Nytefall and they can prove our story.”

  “Perhaps Mab or Luther Grathan can use them to track our enemies.”

  “One can hope.”

  “At the very least, Gregorio Roman would be happy to-”

  Before Narwid can finish his thought, the bags tremble and hum with enough force to vibrate Ralgin’s entire body. With a loud crack and crinkling, the bags are punctured by jeweled spikes that rapidly grow towards the walls and ceiling. The mortal hurls the treasure away and the terrified thieves rush for the exit, neither of them looking behind at the quivering mass of crystals. They are within reach of the door when the trap violently explodes and fills the hideout with a shimmering fog that hardens with a slow crunch. Everything is coated in the fragile gemstones, including Narwid and Ralgin, who try to scream as the weakened ceiling collapses and a flood of dirt fills the ancient cellar.

  *****

  Having watched his friends get slaughtered, Vashif refuses to leave the antechamber and enter the fighting stage. He can still smell the dampness of the hideout he had been standing no more than thirty minutes ago, the lingering odor making sure he remains disoriented and confused. The Dawn Fang thief can only stare at the body parts that have been strewn about the dirt, which is dark red from all of the blood. A cheer rises from the crowd when the victorious barbarian standing amid the carnage raises his warclub and drops of vampire blood fall on his ebony hair. The excited mortal pounds his chest and aims his weapon in Vashif’s direction, the gesture causing several women in the stands to toss perfumed handkerchiefs at the muscular warrior. When it becomes clear that Vashif is not going to come out and fight, the audience throws food and garbage in his direction. He tries to slink out of sight, but bumps into a wall of armored guards that block his path and bare their fangs. Seeing no other choice, the thief takes strength from the fact that he is battling a mortal and tentatively steps into the open. Enjoying the attention, Vashif waves to the crowd and makes some exaggerated stretches to draw out his entrance. The Dawn Fang starts to turn towards his opponent when the warclub hits him in the side of the head with enough force to drive him into the wall. The hurled weapon shatters the vampire’s skull and smashes his brain into the stone, which leaves his twitching body at the mercy of the barbarian who casually walks over to bash the creature into pulp.

  “I knew that womb-born wouldn’t work out,” a pale-skinned vampire says. Watching from the central viewing box, the cloaked figure turns to face a giant ruby that is embedded in the wall behind him. “My apologies, your highness, but it seems there are no decent prospects lurking in the world these days. Most have chosen a side or perfected their ability to hide even from my information network. Dark One, who still wishes to be given his original name back, has had a little more luck, but they are all womb-born. It will be at least five years before they will be of the proper age.”

  “Ugh, I wish someone would kill that unwashed vermin,” a voice mutters from the gem. A pair of golden eyes appear within the central facet, which becomes murky and leaks a thin mist from the corners. “Sir Pendrac . . . Dean . . . My beloved friend and servant . . . Have someone else turn that barbarian and drop the losers into Dark One’s lair. Tell the demon that I will give him back his name once I have claimed a husband. His scrying powers are strong enough to get around Stephanie Talon and Nadia Sylvan, which means I can’t risk him getting any ideas about escaping. Would it be wrong to bring those womb-born in early? I mean, it isn’t like any of them can win my hand, but I could use the manpower.”

&
nbsp; Adjusting the lapel of his butler uniform, the yellow-eyed vampire fights the urge to scowl at his mistress. “It could be seen as inappropriate to have children so young competing not only for your hand, but your bed. People know that the winner of this contest will be the Vampire King and help you create the perfect lineage of Dawn Fang. Best to leave them alone and allow them to grow into future warriors of Apelios. As far as the barbarian, I can have one of the maids turn him. It would be a disaster if your sensitivities were harmed. Your devoted servants are always looking for a chance to entertain the competitors.”

  “Very well, but if the one you choose enjoys herself too much then I want her head delivered to me in the morning,” the Vampire Queen demands, her eyes flickering red for an instant. A pair of crystalline fangs grow out of the bottom of the ruby and stretch towards a pool of swirling blood. “These fights are boring me, so I believe it’s time to bring in those who will make things interesting. A little worm has told me that an event is happening in Nyte, which may draw all of my targets into one place. Please prepare an emissary to attend. Why are those corpses still there? I told you to send them to Dark One and I’m almost able to smell them from my bedroom.”

  The old-world vampire is about to respond when a flying amethyst comes from around the corner of the viewing box and strikes a lever on the wall. A loud clunk shakes the entire arena and the crowd freezes at the sound of grinding gears. All of the doors around the fighting stage slam shut and superheated bars come down to prevent anyone from getting out. Trapped in the middle of the battlefield, the barbarian grips his warclub and turns in a circle in the hopes of catching his next opponent by surprise. A low gurgle and foul stench drift from beneath the coliseum a few seconds before the ground reveals itself to be a giant trapdoor. The two sides swing open to dump the corpses, dirt, and growling warrior into an abyssal pit that ripples like a black lake. The air is filled with the crunching of bone and tearing of flesh, which are eventually joined by the barbarian’s screams. Shadowy tendrils rise from the depths and grip the stand railings before hardening into solid stone. Hearing his mistress cough, Dean hurries to pull the lever again and closes the trapdoor with a loud boom. The severed tentacles turn to dust and dissipate into the air, but those nearby immediately drop and foam at the mouth until a well-dressed servant comes to administer an antidote. Fist-sized crystal orbs fall from the sky to strike the stone ground and they explode into a thick layer of sand that camouflages the entrance once more.