"Advisors!" Samhaed said, turning his back to her, "I need not ask their advice to know it! They would have me huddle, cringing in this palace while the people build a mound of kindling around my feet!"
The woman looked back over her shoulder, motioning to someone off-stage, and a trio of men in colorful robes and headdresses stepped from the smoke into the light.
"Lord Samhaed," one of the advisors spoke as they approached their king, "We would speak to you on the matter of the..."
Garrett's attention was suddenly drawn away from the play by the sound of the Valfrei's voice as she spoke to Marla in a hushed tone.
"I am told that you are quite fluent in the Wyrd," she said.
Marla looked up from the play, blinking. "Oh, yes," she whispered, "Mother has taught me most of the binding wyrds, and I've studied quite a bit on my own as well."
"What Songs have you read?" the Valfrei asked.
Marla looked embarrassed. "The... ah... Tanjin Cycle... the Codex Namare... part of Blake's Triad," she said, "and a few more... minor things."
The Valfrei's eyes narrowed. "That's all?" she asked.
Marla blushed. "I'm sorry," she said, "I... I should have studied more, I know..."
"In Thrinaar you would have learned all the Cycles by heart now," the Valfrei said
Garrett reached out and put his hand on Marla's knee beneath the table, and she clasped it gratefully in turn.
She was spared further admonishment by a trill of the flute and an ominous chord struck on the violins of the unseen orchestra. The lights went out again, and Garrett looked toward the stage to see what came next.
The lights rose upon a real bed that the vampire actors had somehow rushed to the center of the stage in complete silence in the few seconds of darkness between scenes. Samhaed lay sleeping on the bed, and beside him, his queen lay, staring down at him with a troubled look on her face. The smoke around them swirled with the half-formed image of a large chamber with moonlight falling upon the floor through high, narrow windows
The Queen turned her head, seeming to hear a sound from off-stage. She brought her hand to her lips and rose from the bed, fleeing in terror. From the shadows emerged three men in black robes, their faces concealed by strips of cloth, and bright daggers flashing in their upraised hands. They approached the bed with theatrical stealth as Samhaed lay tossing in a troubled dream.
"I have drawn up a list of books that I expect you to read," the Valfrei said, ignoring Garrett's glare, "I will expect you to have finished them all by the time we begin your training next week."
"Yes, Valfrei," Marla whispered, "of course."
The assassins had crept to the very edge of Samhaed's bed, pausing for a breath with their daggers poised to strike.
"And I have a list of supplies that you will need as well," the Valfrei said, "I trust you will procure them at your earliest convenience."
Garrett rolled his eyes and squeezed Marla's knee a bit tighter.
"Of course, Valfrei," Marla agreed.
Just as the daggers fell, Samhaed seemed to wake from his dream and looked up in horror at the men who had come to murder him in his sleep. He looked to his left, finding his wife gone, and then rolled into her empty place as the knives plunged into the bed where he had lain. He came up, struggling with one of the assassins and mocked turning the man's blade back against himself. The assassin fell across the bed, and Samhaed leapt to his feet, fleeing into the darkness with the two remaining men close behind.
The lights fell again, as the drums beat out a frantic chase.
They rose upon a scene of Samhaed, stumbling through a shadowy labyrinth, clutching at a piece of red silk, representing a bloody wound in his side.
"And so, Samhaed fled into the forgotten halls beneath the city," the narrator said, "leaving behind the world of light and love and peace. He staggered down into the depths of the earth, fleeing those that sought his life, with no other thought than to escape and live and, perhaps, seek vengeance upon those who had robbed him of his city."
The Valfrei sipped from her cup again. "This is quite good," she said of the blood, "Is it harvested locally?"
Marla smiled. "Klavicus is in charge of the pens," she said, "He has always provided for our needs, more than adequately."
The Valfrei shrugged. "Perhaps he has found his true calling here," she said.
"Alas," the narrator cried, "the butchers' knives had been dipped in poison, ere they sought the King's heart, and Samhaed felt it coursing now through his veins."
The actor playing Samhaed swooned and wiped his brow with his forearm. He winced in pain as he pulled his hand from his bloody side, surveying the wound. All around, the illusionary walls of the subterranean maze wavered and swayed as though Samhaed's senses were failing him. He stumbled and staggered, barely standing at all now. Then he pitched forward and seemed to fall.
The lights suddenly began to strobe rapidly on and off again, framing in stark relief the body of Samhaed as he fell, flailing his arms and legs as though he were falling into a great pit, The walls of smoke seemed to rush past all around him, completing the illusion. Then darkness swallowed him and the music stopped.
Through the darkness came the low rumble of drums, beating in the rhythm of a man's heart... slow and faltering. A dim red glow began to fill the room so slowly that, at first, Garrett wasn't certain that it was not just some afterimage in the back of his eyes. A shape lay stretched, prone in the center of the stage, and, as the drumming beats and ruddy light grew stronger, Garrett made out the bloody body of Samhaed, ringed by towering shadows of black smoke.
"He lay dying," the narrator said, "in a place of shadow, halfway between the world of men and the world that had been before. His lifeblood stained red the holy stones where no man's foot had ever trod, and the scent of it woke those that slept there. They woke and pondered what to make of this strange, rude beast that lay dying at their feet. What to do with him."
A voice spoke then that filled Garrett with cold terror, a voice that spoke with the thrumming undertones of the Draconic tongue. It seemed to vibrate the very marrow of his bones when it whispered the name, "Samhaed..."
Garrett swallowed hard, fighting back the shiver that ran through his body at the sound of that voice. Marla held his hand a bit tighter, sensing his discomfort. Even the Valfrei said nothing, overwhelmed by the raw power of the disembodied voice,
"Samhaed," the voice spoke again, "Wake."
Samhaed stirred, lifting his head, weakly, from the floor. "Who speaks?" he gasped, "Who calls me back from the land of the dead?"
"Samhaed," the voice said, "Would you have your life back?"
"What good is my life without my people?" he coughed, "Without my crown?"
"The people will be yours again, Samhaed," the voice said, "Yours for all eternity... Your people, and many more, will you rule, forever, Samhaed."
"How?" Samhaed demanded, pushing himself up to his knees, "I am dying!"
One of the shadows moved forward, detaching itself from the wall of black smoke that loomed above the stage. Garrett trembled at the shape suggested by the shadow... something monstrous and hunched with black wings and curved talons. A pair of golden eyes blazed beneath its sooty horns. It stretched out a claw toward the man on the floor and whispered, "Drink."
Samhaed tilted his head back, mouth open to receive the trickle of black smoke that issued from the shadow creature's wrist. The lights fell as he drank the creature's blood, and the drumming beat of his heart grew stronger and slower, finally silencing the moaning violins with one last pounding beat.
"Your mother has a business here in the city?" the Valfrei asked.
"Yes, Valfrei," Marla answered, "our pet shop. I help her with the animals."
"I'll speak to your mother about finding someone to replace you," the Valfrei said, "I'm afraid you are going to be much too busy to leave the embassy for a while."
Garrett looked at Marla, and his breath caught in his throat.
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"For how long?" Marla asked, "Mother needs my help."
The Valfrei shook her head as the house lights began to fill the room with a dim red glow. "I'm afraid that your training takes precedence. Your mother will understand."
"Oh, of course, Valfrei," Marla said, and she squeezed Garrett's hand again as her eyes fell.
Garrett felt a cold, prickling sensation that spread through his chest and arms, and he suddenly noticed that he was grinding his teeth.
The Valfrei glanced at him, a little curve of a smile at the corner of her mouth. She looked as if she might speak, but a fanfare of trumpets cut her off.
The lights rose on a stage filled with men in colorful robes, gathered in celebration. Central among them was Samhaed's queen. She wore a gown the color of the noonday sun, but her face showed no trace of happiness. She turned to look out of the smoke-framed window overlooking the city, beyond which rose the great dark tower, sooty-black against the orange sky. Joyful music filled the hall as the men hailed the birth of a new era of freedom in the city, shouting their jubilant cheers for the Queen.
As they cheered, the cool shadow of dusk began to bleed across the illusion of the sky. Laughter filled the room as the men raised golden goblets in toast to the promise of a bright future. One of them cried out, "Let all the world tremble before us, for we are its rightful lords!" The others reveled in his words and drank deeply of their cups.
Then, as darkness fell across the smoky illusion of the city below, a vibrant purple flame seemed to erupt from the black tower on the horizon, and the men cried out in dismay.
"The tower burns!" one shouted.
"No!" answered a chilling voice from behind, "It awakens to my call."
All turned to see Samhaed, stripped to the waist, with a red sword in his hand. The men in brightly colored robes drew back as he strode into the center of the room. The Queen gasped and put her hands to her lips.
"My King!" a man with a quavering voice spoke, "We had thought you dead!"
"No..." Samhaed said, his voice vibrating with Draconic magic, "It is you who are dead."
Some of them shrieked in terror as Samhaed moved among them like a black wind. Sashes of red silk fluttered out from concealed pockets in the actors' robes, and soon the floor ran red with their silken blood.
Samhaed stood before his queen, sword raised above his head, even as the last of the robed men crumpled to the floor and lay still. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and he looked down, trembling with rage.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Samhaed cast aside his sword. He turned his back to her and walked slowly away into the shadows.
The Queen watched him go, her eyes full of sorrow. She clutched her hand to her heart, as though stricken.
She looked down at the sash of red silk, bundled in the palm of her hand, and watched it spill from her fingers like her lifeblood pouring out. She crumpled at the knees and fell to lay among the other actors, the last victim of Samhaed's vengeance.
Beyond the window, the black tower flared with gouts of violet flame, raining down destruction on all who tried to flee the city.
*******
Garrett did not recall much of the play after that. The serpent-eyed elder vampire took her leave just before the final act of the play, leaving Garrett and Marla to share a brief and uneasy peace. By the time the lights rose over the assembled vampires, and they began to shuffle out, chatting and laughing together, Garrett had sunken into a cold morass of despair. The Valfrei had come to take Marla away from him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He sat, staring at the table in silence, for a long while. Marla reached over to touch his shoulder, giving him a hopeful little smile.
"So, that's it?" he said, "You're just going to do everything she says?"
"I have to, Garrett," Marla said, "and it isn't like we're never going to see each other again, just... not as often."
He gave her a reproachful glance. "No," he said, "She'll find a way to stop us... Did you see the way she looked at me when she left?"
"She doesn't know you," Marla sighed, "It's hard for her to trust an outsider. She thinks she's protecting me."
"From what?" Garrett asked, ashamed at the edge of desperation that crept into his voice.
Marla shook her head. "I promise you, we'll still see each other," she said, "This is just something I have to do... We've always known this was coming. We should be grateful that I'll still be here in the city... I'm not going anywhere Garrett."
Garrett sniffed and nodded. He looked back toward the stage at the faint traces of yellow smoke that still swirled in the light. "How did they do that with the smoke," he asked, anxious to change the subject.
"It's a type of illusion magic," Marla said, "I believe the technique originated in Zhad."
Garrett gave a hoarse laugh. "Like my magic hair trick."
Marla laughed too. "Yes."
"The city in the play was Thrinaar, right?" he asked.
Marla nodded.
"So what was that burning tower thing?"
Marla looked around and lowered her voice before speaking. "That was the Thrin," she said.
"Huh?"
She leaned across the table, so close that Garrett could smell the flowery scent of her hair. "You remember the goblin that we met, right?" she asked, "You know about where they came from, about how they were made?"
Garrett thought for a moment. "Yeah," he said, "Annalien told me that the dragons sang them into being, back when they were fighting with humans... that there was something wrong with them because the dragons were so... sad, or something, when they sang the song."
She nodded again. "That's right, but goblins weren't the only thing they sang into being then. There were all manner of war-bred creatures."
"Like trolls and stuff, right?" Garrett said.
"Yes," she said, "but these were only foot soldiers... there were other songs that were sung as well... darker, and more powerful than any sung before, or since."
"So that tower thing is some sort of giant... goblin tower?"
Marla laughed. "No," she said, "The Thrin is a guardian... a weapon of last resort, created to watch over the resting place of the Masters."
"The dragons that made the vampires?" Garrett asked.
Marla smiled. "That's why our city is named Thrinaar," she said, "The Thrin is the soul of the city, and it watches over and protects it from any who would destroy us."
Garrett thought about this for a moment. "So, if it's a tower," he asked, "can you climb up inside it and look around?"
Marla snorted with laughter.
"What's so funny?" Marla's mother asked as she approached their table. Klavicus followed close behind, at her elbow.
Marla grinned. "Garrett wants to take a tour inside the Thrin," she explained, laughing again.
Mrs. Veranu gave them an incredulous smirk. "How did you like the play, Garrett?" she asked.
"Oh, it was good," he said.
Mrs. Veranu raised her eyebrows. "You look troubled," she said, "is something wrong?"
"The Valfrei sat with us," Marla whispered.
Mrs. Veranu frowned. "Klavicus told me," she said, "How did it go?"
Marla shrugged. "She wants me to stop working at the pet shop," she said.
"I expected as much," Mrs. Veranu sighed, "We'll talk about that later... right now we have something more important to discuss."
Marla gave her a worried look.
Mrs. Veranu smiled and put her hand on Marla's shoulder. "The time has come for you to know some things about... the past," she said,
Marla looked at Garrett and then her mother again, her eyes widening.
"Klavicus," Mrs. Veranu said, "Can you take Garrett home?"
"Of course, my lady," the elder vampire answered, bowing his head.
Garrett rose as Marla did. He gave her a trembling smile, half afraid that he would never see her again if he let her out of his sight. She smiled back at him.
"Thank you for coming tonight, Garrett," she said, "and thanks for staying with me... through that."
"Anytime you need me," he said.
"Goodnight, Garrett," Mrs. Veranu said, guiding Marla away from the table.
"Goodnight," Garrett said, watching them go.
"Are you ready, Master Garrett?" Klavicus asked.
"Yeah," he sighed.
The two of them walked together out of the empty hall and past the clumps of vampires lingering outside. Some of them followed him with their eyes as he passed, but he felt no sense of intimidation, just a sort of sick weariness.
The passed into the dark hall that led to the outer door, and Klavicus fell into step behind him in the narrow corridor.
"Is something wrong, Master Garrett?" Klavicus rasped.
Garrett started from his gloomy thoughts. "Oh... its just that the... Valfrei lady doesn't want Marla to leave the embassy anymore. I don't know when I'll get a chance to see her again."
Klavicus was silent for a moment. "You can see her tomorrow, when you come to kill my rats," he said.
Garrett's mood brightened immediately. "Do you... ah, have a lot of rats?" he asked.
Klavicus hissed out what might have been a laugh. "We have many rats here," he said, "It may take you several visits to exterminate them all."
Garrett smiled. "Thanks, Mister Klavicus," he said.
As they turned a corner, Klavicus pushed him back against the wall and leaned in, his thin lips close to Garrett's ear.
"The young Lady Veranu will need your help now," he whispered, "Do not let Senzei draw her away... Do not let her... corruption... poison the girl's mind!"
Garrett nodded urgently. "Can you help me?" he asked.
Klavicus stared down at him through narrowed eyes. "Senzei is strong," he whispered, "but we must resist! We must not allow her to... destroy those we... those we... have a duty to protect."
Garrett nodded again.
Klavicus grinned then. "She underestimates us, I think, you and I," he chuckled, "and we shall make her regret this."
The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) Page 7
