“Hurt me as much as you will,” shouted Asmund to the heavens. “But when the boy is dead, you’ll have no more hold over me!”
He took his hands away and inhaled deeply, breathing through the pain, then reached over his shoulder and drew an enormous broadsword that he was wearing on his back.
“The girl or you,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Me,” said Will, and lunged, the samurai sword immediately piercing Asmund’s body.
Asmund looked down and nodded approvingly, but jumped nimbly back off the blade and said, “You have a lot to learn, and very little time in which to learn it.”
He swung the broadsword with terrifying speed. Will managed to duck beneath the blade, but in one fluid motion, Asmund swung back and hacked diagonally. Will jumped backwards and the blade rang like a bell against the stone floor.
He had only a moment, but he ran around the nearest pillar and leapt at Asmund from behind, trying to use his agility against the might of the broadsword. He struck at Asmund again, trying for the side of his neck, but the larger man swung effortlessly around and the broadsword smashed explosively against his own.
Will watched as one half of the samurai blade broke off and flew through the air with such force that it became embedded in the stone of one of the pillars. He noticed Eloise, too, running behind the pillars to the vestry end of the church, passing the still frozen Chris and Rachel on the way.
Will hurled the remains of his sword the way he’d once seen a knife thrower hurl a blade at the circus. It struck Asmund in the chest, and even with a broken blade, it buried itself deep.
Asmund nodded again, and as he pulled the broken sword from his chest and threw it to one side, he said, “Now that was almost a good idea! If it had reached my heart, it might have caused me problems. So perhaps I could have made a warrior of you yet.”
“You think yourself a warrior? I was a boy when I was bitten. What excuse did you have? Could you not fight off your attacker, a man of your stature?”
Asmund laughed and said, “If you knew my master, you’d understand the foolishness you speak. He …” He stopped, smiling as he realized the trap Will had tried to lead him into, getting him to reveal the things he’d come here to discover. He looked as if he was about to say something else, but suddenly swung the sword again, a swift and vicious stroke.
Will darted back behind the pillar and ran into the center of the nave, standing just in front of the step on which Rachel and Chris were perched. He saw Eloise and then realized that she was throwing something to him. He caught it—the torch—and turned.
Too late. Asmund was standing ready. He grabbed hold of Will’s coat at the chest and lifted him off the ground, holding him at arm’s length. Will immediately turned on the torch and fired the beam directly into Asmund’s eyes.
He screamed, a deep, booming scream that would have drowned the thunder. And he cursed in his own ancient language, but at no point did he loosen his grip or lower his arm.
Will couldn’t reach him and knew it was useless to hit him with the torch. He was trying desperately to think what else he could do when Asmund pulled him closer and sank his fangs with lightning speed into Will’s hand. The torch dropped to the floor and Asmund loosened his bite, but before he could extend his arm again, Will seized his opportunity.
He swung his fist hard into the side of Asmund’s head, then delivered a second shuddering thump to the other side. It worked, the blows so powerful that Asmund dropped him and staggered back a pace or two.
But even as Will fell to the floor, he knew he’d only have moments before Asmund recovered. He spotted the remains of the samurai sword and scurried towards it. Once it was in his hand, he spun around, still on his knees—Asmund had gone.
He turned again, but saw nothing, only a blur of vision before he felt the force of Asmund’s foot blasting into his face. The kick knocked him to within a few meters of the chancel step. He tried to get up, but found himself briefly unable to move, so great had been the impact, and then he couldn’t move at all because Asmund stood over him, one foot resting heavily on the base of Will’s chest.
As Will looked up, Asmund appeared even more of a giant, and it seemed ridiculous now that he’d ever hoped to defeat him in combat, a man who’d probably been a fearsome warrior even before developing the strengths they both shared.
Asmund seemed to be catching his breath, but Will knew that he was actually fighting through the pain that came with defying his master. And when he spoke, his words were labored, his jaw muscles making an agony of each movement.
“Sunlight and fire will make you wish for death, but won’t kill you. The stake, as I believe you know, will imprison you. But there is only one certain way to kill our kind—chop off our heads.”
He drew back his broadsword, ready to strike. After nearly eight centuries, the moment had come and Will prepared himself for death, overtaken with a mixture of fear and overwhelming relief that it would end at last. He regretted only that he could do no more to protect Eloise, and as if to emphasize that regret, she called out now.
“Stop!” Her voice was surprisingly firm, but still sounded small and faint after the clatter of fighting. Yet Asmund lowered the sword again and laughed to himself, amused enough to allow the diversion. “Take my blood. Let him live and you can have my blood.”
Will answered her, shouting, “Eloise, run, now! Get to the car and drive away.”
“I can’t drive.”
“Perhaps you could try!”
“I’m staying,” came her defiant answer. “And the offer stands.”
Asmund shook his head. “Too late, girl. I kill him first, then take your blood, not one or the other. Both. And he was telling you the truth—you die tonight. We walk through death, we are gods, but you are nothing more than food.”
Will felt his hand tightening around the hilt of the broken samurai sword in anger. He felt ashamed that he had been about to go to his death so willingly and that he had so very nearly left Eloise to this monster. He felt ashamed, too, because he realized he would have been sacrificing her just as much by dying as if he’d given her up willingly.
“I’m ready,” he said. “Do your worst.”
“As you wish,” said Asmund, and raised the sword a second time.
Eloise screamed, but Will was ready now and determined, and in the brief moment that the broadsword threw Asmund’s balance, he drove the broken samurai sword into his calf muscle and pushed up as hard as he could, shoving the foot up off his chest.
Asmund crashed to the floor, the broadsword smashing down next to him, but still within his grip. Will sprang to his feet and immediately kicked at Asmund’s hand, sending the heavy weapon clanging across the nave, dangerously close to Chris’s legs.
Will scrambled after it but as he turned with the broadsword in his hands, it was no surprise to find Asmund already recovered enough to be standing facing him just a few meters away. The samurai blade was still skewering his lower leg and he reached down and pulled it out as if it was little more than an inconvenience.
He laughed again, mocking Will, pretending to throw the broken sword. Then, as if to prove that he had nothing to fear, Asmund studied the thin blade, rubbing his finger along it before throwing it carelessly aside. He reached instead to his belt and pulled free a battleaxe.
“How I separate your head from your body is of no importance.” Will could hear Eloise behind him and off to one side, fumbling with something or other, and the noise was distracting him, making it hard to concentrate on studying Asmund’s movements. “Come then. Be a warrior!”
He sprang violently towards Will, the axe arm trailing behind him as if ready to swing a blow with the full force of his body. Will raised the sword, realizing that he’d have to strike before Asmund got too close, that his timing would have to be perfect. And then he knew what Eloise had been fumbling with because, once again, a light scorched into Asmund’s eyes.
His step faltered, only fo
r a moment, but enough. Even as he charged towards him, Will swung the broadsword with a fierce sweep. For a fraction of a second, he thought he’d missed, but then he felt the satisfying resistance of flesh and bone as the blade sliced through Asmund’s neck.
Asmund’s head flew into the air at the same time as his body crashed into Will, knocking him to the ground and pinning him down. The head never landed, and no sooner had Will crunched onto the stone floor than the body on top of him disappeared into a dazzlingly cold blue flame, which died immediately away.
Even the sword in Will’s hand disappeared. It was as if everything that had been connected with Asmund had been sucked away into another dimension by the very act of beheading him. So this was how their kind met their end, and how one day his real death might come to claim him.
He was torn from his thoughts by astounded voices behind him.
“What happened?”
“Oh my God, that was so …” It was Chris and Rachel, released from their spell. He heard their voices, but didn’t comprehend their words, then heard Eloise speaking to them, but couldn’t quite focus on what she was saying either.
He sat up and heard something fall from his chest on to the floor in front of him. It seemed not everything of Asmund’s had disappeared. A metal pendant, its strap cut by the sword’s blade, had survived. Will slipped it into his pocket, then stood to face the others.
They stopped and looked at him. Eloise looked as if she wanted to run to him, but she stayed where she was and said, “Thank you.”
“For what?” Will was astonished. “It’s me who should thank you, for blinding him, for offering to sacrifice yourself.”
She smiled a little and said, “I knew you wouldn’t let that happen.” She looked almost embarrassed and turned to Chris and Rachel. “How much of that did you see?”
“All of it,” said Chris, and then to Will, “Sorry, we were completely useless.”
Rachel said, “It was horrible, like we were trapped in ice and could see everything happening, but couldn’t …”
She stopped in mid-sentence and stared over Will’s shoulder, alarmed. Chris and Eloise followed her gaze and adopted the same look of alarm. And even before he turned, Will could feel that the atmosphere had changed, that it was distorting in some way or other.
By the time he turned, six women had already emerged from the walls of the church, three on each side, their robes like ragged mist, their faces pale and almost entirely featureless, only faint shadows to suggest where once there had been eyes, mouths, noses.
They now stood silent guard between the pillars and a seventh woman emerged from the archway at the tower end of the church. She half floated, half walked along the nave until she stood facing him a few meters away. It was the spirits from the cathedral, the ones who’d been so fearful that he would sacrifice Eloise.
For a moment, the seventh woman appeared frozen, but then the shadowy remains of her mouth opened and she said in a detached, otherworldly voice, “Beware, William of Mercia, you heeded not our warnings and you can no longer turn back, but the path ahead is strewn with danger, to you, and to those who travel with you. This is but the beginning. The legions of the underworld await you, armies will seek to destroy you, but only you can know the true course.”
“Why have you tried to help me?” Will wasn’t even sure that they had tried to help him, but he was certain at least that they meant him no harm.
“We serve another,” said the woman.
“Who?”
She didn’t answer, but said instead, “Remember, William of Mercia, sever the head and the body will fall.”
She began to turn, but Will asked urgently, “Who is Lorcan Labraid?”
The air seemed to crackle as if it was electrically charged. The other six women looked charged as well, as if they might suddenly explode into flames. The woman turned back to face him and after another eerie pause, she spoke again.
“He is the evil of the world, but you know this already. Beware, William, he calls to you and you cannot help but answer.”
“But what does he want, and why has he waited till now, why all this time?”
“Just as planets must align, so are you but half of what he needs.”
She turned her head, staring at something over Will’s shoulder, briefly transfixed by it. Will turned, too, and saw that she was staring at a slightly alarmed Eloise. By the time he faced forwards again, the woman was walking away from him.
More questions tumbled over in Will’s head, but he couldn’t put any of them into words. The six women were already disappearing into the walls, and the seventh was almost back at the archway that led to the bell tower.
And then it came to him—the seven women, the strangely melted features. “I’m sorry,” he called out. The woman stopped and turned. “I’m sorry for what we did to you.”
She turned to face him again, and appeared to consider his apology before bowing her head in acknowledgment, and within a few seconds more, she had disappeared into the night’s fabric.
“They were the witches, weren’t they?” It was Eloise. He turned and nodded.
Rachel looked from Eloise to Will and said, “The witches who were burned?”
“I think so. And yet it seems they were trying to protect us, even me.”
“I’m sure they had good reason,” said Chris, trying to sound relaxed, but unable to conceal his true feelings—he was scared, so deeply that it would probably never leave him. He looked around the church and tried to adopt a casual tone again as he said, “Speaking of which, do we have any good reason not to be getting out of here?”
Will shook his head and said, “No, let’s go.”
They recovered the lantern and torch, and the remains of the samurai sword and stepped out into a transformed night. The world was calm again and stars were faintly visible, dimmed only by the light of the moon, which was close to full.
As they walked down the hill, Will looked at his hand. The wound had already healed and Asmund’s fang marks were only just visible, the last physical remnants of his existence.
Asmund had poisoned his life, and those of countless others, and in a final act of madness had tried to kill the person he had been ordered to serve. He had probably been a bad person even before the sickness, and yet even though Will had come here in the very hope of destroying him, he felt sad for him now.
He wasn’t sure why, whether it was because Asmund had been cursed just as much as he had, or perhaps he was saddened by the loss. For whatever his faults, Asmund had been the first of his own kind that he’d ever met, and together they might have had much to discuss. And Asmund had made him what he was, whether he liked it or not, so in some strange way, perhaps it was the sadness of a boy who has lost his father.
24
An hour later, they were sitting around the heavy wooden table in Chris and Rachel’s rustic kitchen. The room was lit by candles because they had returned to find the city was still blacked out from the earlier storm. There was only one candle on the table itself and Rachel had placed it as far away from Will as possible.
Chris had just opened a bottle of red wine and poured out three glasses, saying, “I’m not sure we should be encouraging you to drink, Eloise, but under the circumstances …”
“That’s very sweet of you, Chris, but I’ve been drinking wine with dinner since I was about five.”
He handed her the glass and said, “Will, I feel awful not being able to offer you anything.”
Will shook his head, dismissing the thought, but then Rachel added, “And it’s dreadful that you didn’t really find what you were looking for.”
“But we did find some answers,” said Eloise. “At least we know for sure now that Lorcan Labraid is the Suspended King, and that he’s one of the four.”
Chris shook his head and said, “But each answer just leads to more questions. Who are the four, and how is Labraid a Suspended King, and most of all, what were you meant to find out there tonight?”
Will didn’t respond and after a second, Rachel said, “You don’t look very disappointed, Will.”
“I found the man who did this to me. If I never learn anything else about myself, I’ll be satisfied that I found Asmund and saw him destroyed.”
Eloise sipped at her wine and said, “The way he just vaporized like that—I know he wasn’t a nice person or anything, but I felt sorry for him when that happened.”
“So did I,” said Will, but then remembered the pendant. He took it out of his pocket and looked at it, saying, “This fell from his neck and landed on my chest. It was the only bit of him that didn’t disappear.”
Rachel took it from him and said, “Looks like bronze. Hey, maybe it was meant to survive. Maybe it was even meant to land on your chest.”
Chris thought about it and looked enthusiastic as an idea overtook him. “That’s it! How do we know Asmund even deviated from the plan? I mean, maybe he thought he was defying his master’s orders, but maybe that was all part of it.” He held his hands up as if trying to grasp the conclusion he was after. “The church will speak, that was what it said, and in a way it did, but maybe the only thing that was meant to come out of it was you getting your hands on that pendant.”
Will wasn’t convinced, and would have been happier with a simple explanation from his maker, but as Asmund himself had pointed out, there were many tests on the road to a great man’s destiny.
Rachel held the pendant up to the candlelight and said, “Nice theory, but I can’t see this speaking much— it’s broken for one thing.”
The pendant looked like half a disc, jagged down one side where it had broken, but as Eloise looked at it, her eyes opened wide and she said, “Maybe it isn’t broken.” She got up from the table and took one of the candles into the sitting room.
Blood Page 17
