by T. E. Hodden
“No.” Ashel glanced at me. “Did it need saying?”
I shook my head.
“Right.” Ashel flexed her fingers to produce her scimitar. She held the blade flat before her. Tendrils of icy mist drifted over the blade. She placed a hand on the blade. “Lady Corvus?”
Corvus placed her hand on the blade.
“Sir Robert?” Ashel said, softly.
I placed my hand upon Corvus's. She offered me a smile.
“To our duty then!” Ashel declared.
“Until it is done,” Corvus answered.
“Until it is done,” I parroted.
“Sir Robert?” Corvus grinned. “It sounds wrong.”
“Does this mean I have to wear some robes?” I enquired.
“That would just look wrong,” Corvus giggled.
“Schism ahoy! Port Side!” One of the crew barked.
I hurried to the far side of the ship.
The marshland had given way to craggy stone scrub covered in brambles and heather. In the distance, I could see the rubble of fallen statues flanking a deep, long, wound in the ground. The sides of the chasm were overrun with vines and hanging plants, but there were regular shapes behind the plants, ramparts and regular surfaces.
The city stood silent and empty.
Homecoming (part two)
The ship descended into the chasm with a drone of engines. I watched the shadows in the windows and doorways behind the curtains of vines. There were mouldering wooden shutters, roofs blanketed in moss, and statues that were home to nesting birds. Magic saturated the twilight of the gorge.
“What sort of trouble can we expect?” I asked Corvus.
She was wearing her armour over her robes. Her face scrunched up, as though she had smelt something bad. “You remember all the things I said might find their way out of the Slate Marshes when that doorway was open?”
“Ah.” I did not like that answer. “Nothing is ever easy for us, is it?”
She flashed me a smile.
The crew guided the ship alongside a wharf reaching out from a tunnel mouth. Ashel jumped down onto the platform. Corvus followed. I hopped down with them, and followed the pair into the cool, still, air of the tunnel. I expected it to feel dank like a cave, but there was an arid and dusty feel to the tunnel.
I took out my knife and let the flames dance on the blade, driving back the darkness, revealing the cobblestones on the floor, and the bay windows of shops that lined either side of the tunnel. The glass panes were cracked, the shops full of knotted weeds and tangled bushes.
We followed the tunnel as it sloped gently down, into the belly of the cliff side. The tunnel opened into a great cavern. Fangs of stone hung down from the ceiling. Several storeys down I could see streets and squares, surrounding a lake. The sides of the cavern were an overlapping jumble of buildings. Glowing moss and algae clung to the natural stone, casting a watery blue light over the buildings, the buttresses and supports.
The manor house was on the far side of the lake, a Gothic building of bricks and spires, that melded into the fabric of the cavern. The Emberleaf symbols were formed by the patterns of the bricks on the face of the manor.
Looking at the house made my mind itch. The air was barbed with background magic.
A chorus of howls broke the near silence of the city. Creatures broke from the shadows and jumped down from the upper platforms, trapping us in the stairwells. The creatures were as close to arachnid as they were to apes. As they rushed into combat I got an impression of thick grey fur, two broad, powerful legs, and four long arms, hewn from gorilla like muscle, ending in clawed paws. Their maws were full of canine teeth, for shredding flesh, caked in the gore of past meals. The creatures were driven by animal cunning, with no human intelligence.
The first two tried to drag Ashel down, she met them with her sword, cutting them back with bursts of elemental cold, as she kept them at bay. Corvus charged past her to meet the next pair with her sword crackling with lightning, dancing elegantly between her foes, and out of reach of their claws.
I turned to face the three blocking our retreat. One tried to bite my face off and instead had my knife plunge through his heart. He bucked and jolted on the tip of my knife, as his life left him. I hurled a sheet of flames at the other two, and reduced them to ashes before they could get close enough to rip my throat out. There were more up on the platforms. I threw a few blasts at them, to change their minds.
We fled the other way, down the stairs to the lakeside, aiming for the manor house. Another of the spider-gorillas burst from a shop. It pinned Ashel down. I let a searing ray of fire from my fingers, with such force it lifted the beast from Ahel, and slammed it to a wall as it crumbled into cinders.
She sat up, nursing her arm.
“And my daughter's first reaction was to hit you?” Ashel gasped.
“Mum!” Corvus snapped. “Now is not the time!”
A worm the size of a python reared up out of gutter and tried to gnaw a hole in Ashel's shoulder. She drove her blade into the maw. The worm froze with a squeal and shattered.
“Is that how you meet people?” Ashel asked, her eyebrow raised. “You say hello and they have the urge to punch you?”
“More often than I care to admit,” I confessed.
“Mum!” Corvus looked heavenward.
“He's a knight of the Empire now.” Ashel frowned. “There are balls, and festivals, banquettes and... introductions. There is no point teaching him the right fork to use for fish, if it is going to be a brawl.”
“I know the right fork for fish. I know the right knife for cheese. I know not to let the port touch the table.” I shook my head. “I'm not the uncivilised barbarian who decided that a broken nose was a suitable greeting.”
“She broke your nose!” Ashel gasped, scandalised.
“Only a little.” Corvus looked at me, her smile feigning innocence. “I said sorry.”
“When you told me you had been in a fight, I thought you would have told me if you threw the first punch!” Ashel cleaned her blade with a pulse of energy.
“Fight?” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Wouldn't I have had to have done some of the punching for it to have been a fight?”
“Oh. Marvellous.” Ashel shook her head.
We hurried on our way, trying not to think about what was moving and coiling beneath the surface of the lake. The manor house loomed over us. As my foot touched the bottom step to the front door, magic hit me like a roll of thunder. Hammers struck anvils in my head. My knees buckled, and I bolstered my defences, blinking the white hot pain away.
The house was protected by a Deflection Shield, a blunt instrument of magic to deter intruders.
The others flinched back as well.
“Corvus, show it your pendant!” I gasped.
She reached under her armour and held up her inherited pendent. The inscription became the interlocked circles of family.
“Open the door!” Corvus commanded. “It is me.”
The Deflection Field drew back.
Corvus put her hand on the doors. “It seems I inherited this mess, and I demand to inspect my legacy and see what is to be done.”
The doors creaked open.
The house was as grand as one might have expected from the Emberleaf family. The hallway was clad in panels of old, dark, oiled to reveal the fingerprints of grain. Each panel was inlaid with autumn coloured veneers, in a pattern of vines and grasses, inhabited by butterflies and glow worms.
I ventured through the vast central passageway. The vaulted ceiling and supporting columns gave the impression of a ribcage, for some giant beast.
“Wait.” Corvus paused. “I can hear something...”
She turned sharply, and followed a passage to the side. We emerged into a library, the high bookshelves being claimed by nettles and weeds. I felt something clawing at the back of my head. Corvus ran across the library floor, to a tall oil painting of Imperial Knights standing triumphant over vanquished fo
es on some mountain pass. She ran her fingers around the edges of the frame.
“They are behind here...” Corvus said. “I can hear them. Voices.” She frowned. “Father. Open up!”
The heavy frame of the painting swung open, revealing a narrow passageway, draped in shadows. Corvus marched into the darkness. Ashel and I hurried after her. There was the feel of a tomb about the low ceiling and narrow darkness. At regular intervals down the length of the passage were alcoves, in which dress mirrors stood.
The mirrors each began to glow, casting beams of moonlight through the passageway, illuminating the ornate door at the far end. There was a fuzz of magic around each of the mirrors.
“Father?” Corvus called out. “Robert, he is here. I know it sounds odd, but I can hear him. I can feel him.”
There was something in the air. The magic around the mirrors was shifting and moving. It reacted to the touch of my mind.
“Portals?” Ashel muttered.
“An easier way to come and go?” I suggested. “Without drawing attention?”
“If father wanted me to find this, then why not tell me they were here?” Corvus wondered.
I put my hand on the mirrors. “The portals are sealed. They could be reopened from this side, given enough time.”
“We should not try, until we have some idea where they go,” Ashel warned me.
I agreed, whole heartedly.
Corvus put her hands on the doors at the far end, and they creaked open.
Beyond was a room that could not decide if it had been intended as a dungeon, or a laboratory. The walls were unfinished stone, on a cathedral scale. Rusting chains and other equipment hung overhead. There was a work bench, and several pieces of equipment I did not recognise. In the middle of the floor was a well, with a heavy iron cover. We glanced down into the water, and saw something glittering way, far in the depths of the well.
“The Wraitheart!” Ashel muttered, her voice full of reverence.
I looked around. There was a brass and walnut cabinet set in an alcove, crowned by something that looked like a fishbowl full of water and silt. There were a series of glass orbs, the size of snooker balls, full of fairy lights. There was a mechanical clunk, and a whir of motors, as the goldfish bowl began to pulse with an inner light. A transparent image, like a hologram, was suspended within the bowl.
My father stared into the middle distance.
“My daughter, you have come a long way to achieve your mission. All is prepared for you, my darling. Retrieve the Wraitheart, hold it aloft, and give it the command 'Family' and you will secure the future of our family.” The recording smiled. “You have many questions, and there is much you do not understand, but I promise you, this path has been set a long time, and the answers will become apparent soon enough, but for now, you must trust me, one more time.”
The air around us vibrated with magic. I felt the commands echoing in my head, even as I threw up my defences. The screen flashed and pulsed.
Retrieve the Wraitheart and set it free.
I looked to my friends. Their expressions were slack, their eyes out of focus, as they moved like they were sleepwalking.
Retrieve the Wraitheart and set it free.
Ashel and Corvus turned as one, and walked to the well. Between them they lifted the heavy cover from the well, and lowered one of the chains into the water with a groan of metal on metal.
I wanted to do as I was told. I wanted to let myself sleep, and my mind to melt away. I wanted to retrieve the Wraitheart, and set it free.
I blinked the desires away. They were the wrong shape for my mind. They were commands, not desires. I made myself take the few steps to the console. I prised the hinged cover away with my knife, and pulled out the sphere that was lodged in the device. The screen stuttered off.
Ashel and Corvus blinked, shaking the thought clear of their head.
“What was I doing?” Corvus asked.
“There was a spell in the journal!” Ashel took the sphere from me and held it up, so she could see the sparkles of light within. “Why would Alec feel the need to mesmerise us? We came here for him! This is...” She gritted her teeth. “This is not his doing.”
“You said this was his journal?” I asked.
Corvus stepped past me and took out some of the spheres. “They have the family symbol on.”
“And what if they are booby-trapped too?” I asked.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Ashel offered.
Corvus pushed one of the spheres into the machine. The mechanisms whirred to life, and the bowl filled with light, as an image formed. Once more it was my father.
“My Lord,” he bowed his head. “I have prepared the way, but I can not activate the weapon myself. It sees... more in my soul than I expected. It sees all we are. However, there is a way. My daughter will satisfy our needs, in blood and in soul, given time. It...complicates things, but it is possible. I will make arrangements to move around the complications.”
The image stuttered.
“My Lord, as you suspected there are factions at work within the Court we did not anticipate. If they compromise the girl, we hand them the weapon. I have a solution. My son, the illegitimate child to a mortal woman, is as yet unknown to the Emberleafs. He is in the mortal world. I am keying a portion of the defences to his presence. Our enemies may compromise the girl, but she will be useless without him. If the time comes, for me to die, his existence will be revealed. I can foresee the Court from arguing his status, and his inheritance, but I can not foresee the Empress as being so petty as to refuse him travel to my funeral. He will unlock the ways for my daughter to be drawn here, and to set the weapon in motion. If she, or the weapon, ever risk being compromised, if I can not maintain my work, I need only kill him, and the way here will be blocked. If the weapon will not be used in your name, Master, it shall be useless.”
“No!” Ashel snapped. “No! I do not believe it! That is not my husband! Those words do not belong from his mouth! He...” She rubbed her head. “It is him, but those would never be his words.”
“I know.” Corvus put the next sphere in place. “I know...”
I thought about magic, mirrors, and people not themselves. Ideas began to form, vaguely, and in fragments.
The next message stuttered into life.
“I am compromised, my Lord. There is a faction in the Empire striving for a coup. They suspect the weapon. I am sending an asset to destroy the boy. If need be, I will have the girl destroyed as well. I suspect I shall not live long. Prepare for me.”
I understood.
“No!” Ashel turned away. “This is a trick. This is...”
“It was not your husband,” I said, quietly. “At least... it was not only him.”
They looked at me.
“He was still in there, and when he was around you, all that made him...well.. him, was in control. Here... Here he could let his passenger slip up to the surface and take control. He would have been a willing host, offering himself to the process, but... it makes sense, doesn't it? We think that symbol means 'family' but-”
“We-” another voice snapped from behind us, “-would say it as 'Tribe', if we chose to speak it in your languages.”
We turned to face the newcomer.
He was a tall, strong, man, in rude health. Well defined muscles strained at his tunic, and golden eyes flashed with inner light. His beard was jet black and well groomed, his skin pale and smooth as plastic. He smiled, revealing his vampire's fangs.
“Welcome!” He looked at Corvus. “I believed when I died, this opportunity would be lost. Braccus and his Empire Reborn were too close to getting their grubby little mittens on the Wraitheart. Yet, here you are, my child, ready to fulfil your destiny.”
“You are not my father,” Corvus snapped. “Stop trying to sound like him.”
“I am no longer in that body, but yes, for a while I was your father.” The man bowed. “Or more correctly I was always Lord Lorean Hastus, of the Wyve
rn Tribes, Prince Immortal of the Spiremouth Reaches, who for a while, inhabited the living host Sir Alec of Amberleaf.”
“How long?” Ashel demanded. “How long was he... you...”
“I married you, my darling.” He gestured. “Would you like me to describe our wedding night? The song I taught the mimic flies to sing? Or perhaps to recite the promises you whispered as we lay stewing in our sweat?”
“You ordered the murder of my mother, and me?” I tried to keep my voice amiable. “The Kyllan was your asset?”
“Yes.” Lorean flashed me a smile. “Do you think Braccus and his petty band of armchair revolutionaries know how close they came to ensuring their conquest could never work?”
“What is it you want?” I asked, evenly. “If the Wraitheart is released, whom does it destroy?”
“Why, it destroys Spiremouth, the Forum, and the noble houses of the Autumn Court Empire,” Lorean stepped towards me. “It will leave countless other worlds open to us. Those of the Empire, and old hunting grounds like Earth. We will return to the old ways. We will feed. We will rule...”
“And you expect us to do as you wish?” Ashel whispered.
“Do you really think I will leave you a choice?” His pitch rose as he spoke. The air around him shimmered as he summoned a wave of magic around him.
“No!” I warned, putting as much strength as I could behind my defences.
The wave of magic flashed through the air, and swept us off our feet. I never felt myself land. I fell into dreams instead.
*
I've told you before about the way Vampires feed. They snare you in the sweetest dreams, and keep you in those realms of candyfloss and glitter, as they melt your mind and soul away.
I found myself laying in the bed of a pick up truck, watching shooting stars.
Cylder lay beside me, smiling as she saw me. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to give myself to the dream, and let it go on.
“Robert!” Cylder sat up, beside me. “This is not right. Something is in your head. I can feel it.”
“I know.” I didn't want to know, I didn't want to think about anything beyond that moment, but I could feel the truth there, at the back of my mind, trying to scream at me to wake up. “It's Vampires.”
