The Stolen Princess

by Kristen Gupton

  He shook his head and tried to play it off. “I employ a seer to help when I’m occupied with other matters, but that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of what you are up to on my own.”

  “Yes it does.”

  The elder vampire hadn’t been prepared to respond to such an immediate and childish response. “You doubt me?”

  The Tordanian gave a smile that bordered on a leer. “You don’t have the ability, and you never did.”

  Keiran had him in a lie, and further arguing the point would gain him nothing. The young king was becoming more challenging to deal with.

  “A triviality. You flashed your money around Stanth, and it’s human nature to brag. Finding you was no great feat, seer involved or not,” Athan said, shrugging it off. “Now, I’ll ask you one more time, where did you get that sword? Where did they hide it all of these years? I knew Ilana had the damn thing somewhere. I’m surprised your feeble-minded friends were able to keep it out of my sight for so long. It’s as though they buried it with your mother.”

  “They did.”

  Athan sighed and frowned. Keiran seemed to be a man of few words tonight. “You’re not endearing yourself to me, boy.”

  “Not trying to.”

  He took a long breath and closed his eyes momentarily. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I know you have it now…temporarily, anyway.”

  There was a noise further down the street, and Athan turned around just as he felt most of his supernatural powers snuffed out again.

  “Damn it all!” Athan growled, watching as Kayla and Sytir stopped a short distance away.

  They had dressed and emerged from their inn. Kayla was close enough that the talisman she still wore impinged the powers of the two vampires.

  Athan grew more agitated. He reached down and drew his sword, but kept it lowered at his side. While he didn’t doubt he’d be able to take Keiran in a fight alone, the Nahli man complicated matters. He was surrounded and had no means of taking flight or vanishing to escape. It was a situation he’d not faced in centuries, and it stirred his anger further.

  “What? Do the lot of you think you’ll get away with putting me in chains like you did to Baden?” Athan asked.

  “It’s a thought,” Keiran replied.

  Athan’s piercing stare fixed on the other vampire, his rage slowly spiraling out of his control. He knew he could defeat Keiran and escape in his direction. Though Sytir didn’t have the advantage of the blinding storm he’d enshrouded himself with last time, Keiran would be an easier out. Doing nothing and being taken as a prisoner was absolutely unacceptable.

  Quicker than anyone else in the group could perceive it, Keiran saw Athan bring up his sword and start to rush toward him. The younger vampire raised his own in defense, bracing himself for the blow. For all the times he’d clashed with Athan, it had never been in a fight like this.

  Athan stopped before Keiran and slashed out, trying to get him to retreat. Keiran didn’t surrender any ground, however, his blade meeting Athan’s as he diverted the blow, forcing his weapon up and away. Until that moment, Kanan had been the strongest swordsman he’d ever faced. The shock sent through his hands and arms from the power behind Athan’s first strike was on an entirely different level.

  Athan paused, wondering if the Nahli man behind him would jump into the fight, but he didn’t act yet. He didn’t have too much time to think about why Sytir didn’t do so, his attention shifting right back to Keiran. He spun in a circle, putting all of his strength into his next blow.

  Again, Keiran didn’t retreat, holding his blade before him with both hands, determined to divert this blow like the previous one. He managed to influence the trajectory of Athan’s swing, but the tip of the sword still passed close enough to his stomach to slice into his shirt and coat. He needed to make a move and go from defense to offense.

  Jerris didn’t know what to do. Sword still in hand, he wanted to join in the fight, but Athan would most likely tear him to ribbons. The speed the two vampires moved with was simply beyond his ability to compete with. He’d sparred with Keiran a few times over the previous year, and each time, he’d immediately lost.

  Keiran could see Jerris to the side, and he knew his friend wouldn’t survive intervening. “Jerris, stay back!”

  Athan’s gaze flicked toward the redhead, curious to see what he was doing to gain Keiran’s attention.

  It gave Keiran the chance he’d been waiting for.

  The younger vampire took a more natural, single-handed hold of his rapier-like blade. His sword was lighter and quicker than Athan’s hefty broadsword. Before Athan was able to bring up his blade and swing again, Keiran thrust out.

  Though Athan saw what was happening, his reaction wasn’t quite fast enough. While Keiran had aimed for the center of his chest, Athan turned enough that the tip of the blade pierced his right shoulder instead. It sunk in a short distance with a sickening crunch.

  Over the course of his exceptionally long life, Athan had sustained a multitude of injuries during fights in the past. The pain from this wound, however, was different. Usually, there was a momentary delay from the pain of such a wound as adrenaline muted such things.

  Not this time.

  Athan recoiled and spun away, his sword slipping from his hand and being flung some distance behind him. He caught a cry in his throat as the feeling in his right arm was lost below the level of the searing wound. He clamped his left hand over the injury, his fangs bared.

  Keiran was taken aback by Athan’s reaction. He took a step forward, readying to strike Athan down and end it.

  He knew Keiran would take advantage of the situation if he didn’t act quickly. He forced back the mind-dizzying pain, sidestepping away from Keiran. Though he put all of his focus on healing the wound, nothing changed. Whether from Kayla’s talisman or the rumored properties of the sword in Keiran’s hand, it didn’t matter; Athan could not mend his shoulder. His arm hung useless at his side.

  Keiran advanced cautiously. Though Athan seemed like an easy target, he wasn’t about to rush in and make a careless mistake. Perhaps the sword in his possession really was that powerful, or perhaps, Athan was luring him in.

  The older vampire let his hand fall away from his shoulder. He’d managed to maneuver them to where he now stood in the space between Keiran and Jerris.

  He picked up on what Athan was trying to do, and Keiran had to attack before the other vampire managed to run away through the gap he’d positioned himself into. Keiran took a lunging step forward, the tip of his blade again aimed for Athan’s heart.

  The corner of Athan’s mouth quirked as Keiran advanced toward him. He threw himself backward at the last moment, hitting the cold ground and rolling to end up kneeling. Despite the appearance of his age and the injury to his arm, the maneuver was fluid and controlled. There was a small silver flash as he came to a stop, a quick whistle cutting through the air.

  Keiran hadn’t anticipated his move. He tried to advance again, pulling his blade in close to his side to wind up for another thrust. The hand guard of his sword hit something with a metallic clink, a wave of pain radiating up from below his ribs.

  He looked down to see a small silver dagger protruding from his body. It was embedded deep enough to puncture his diaphragm, and the following attempt at a breath was cut short.

  Athan didn’t linger there to revel in hitting his mark. With Keiran momentarily disabled, he picked up his sword, took to his feet, and bolted away from the group. He felt the power of Kayla’s Northern Star fade again, and he attempted to shift into a raven.

  One of the bird’s wings was paralyzed, however, and he crashed back into the snow. He flapped and flailed without any grace, unable to fly. Still needing to escape, and now embarrassed on top of his pain, the bird dissolved from sight as he gave up any attempt at a physical form.

  Keiran sheathed his sword, his hands trembling from adrenaline and pain. Once the weapon was stowed, he reached down and grabbed the dagger, intending to pull
it out.

  Jerris jogged over and sheathed his blade. He placed one of his hands against Keiran’s shoulder, the other grabbing the vampire’s left wrist to stop him. “Wait, wait! You don’t simply rip these things out like that!”

  Keiran’s pain-maddened eyes met his friend’s. “I’ve suffered worse, Jerris. I can deal with this. Would you rather do it?”

  The guard’s stomach turned at the mere thought, his gaze drifting down to the blood seeping out around the dagger. Though his inclination was to turn away, something paralyzed him about the sight. While he could handle fighting and even killing, seeing Keiran wounded brought back the horrific images of a year before, locking him up.

  The vampire didn’t have it in him to care too much about the state of shock Jerris was slipping into. He could hear his sister and Sytir approaching. Without further hesitation, he drew the dagger out from his side, Jerris’ hand still clamped around his wrist.

  Jerris dropped to the street, out cold.

  Keiran tossed the dagger to the ground and knelt down. With the blade out, the pain diminished, though the wound wasn’t going to heal until he got a drink. “Jerris?”

  The guard let out an odd snoring sound, passed out.

  Kayla and her husband arrived and knelt down, not sure what had happened in the last moments of the fight.

  She placed her hand in the middle of Jerris’ chest, looking him over for an injury. “What happened to him? We never saw him get hit!”

  “He didn’t.” Keiran winced as a spasm gripped his lower chest. “There are certain situations in which Jerris has a rather delicate constitution.”

  Sytir studied the vampire. “And you? We saw the dagger.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve been run through before, this is nothing.” Keiran fixed his gaze on Jerris. “Come on, get up.”

  The guard’s eyes fluttered, a splitting headache settling in after his loss of consciousness. “Where’s Athan?”

  “Gone.” Keiran stood up and scanned the street around them to verify the fact. He held out a hand toward Jerris.

  He took it and rose up, being helped by Kayla and Sytir on the way. Jerris looked Keiran over, though not too closely. “You all right?”

  “Aye, fine.” Keiran gave him a faint smile, sweat running down his face and his complexion an unhealthy shade.

  “The Northern Star!” Kayla reached up to pull the talisman out. “I need to get it put away so you can heal.”

  He shook his head, holding an unsteady hand toward her. “Don’t. I won’t heal even if you do. I’ve not drank in far too long. We can’t risk you putting it away when Athan is still close.”

  She gave a nod, knowing she’d not seen Keiran have any blood at all since they’d gotten on the ship in Tordan Lea. Athan used to drink in her presence all the time to keep his abilities up. Still, she didn’t suspect her talisman was helping in any way.

  Kayla examined Keiran again, seeing the odd tone to his complexion. “At the very least, we need to get you inside. I don’t think you’re fine at all.”

  * * *

  The group of them returned to the inn Sytir and Kayla had gotten a room at earlier. After paying for the room adjacent to theirs, Sytir and Kayla helped get Keiran situated as best they could. Sytir placed a wrap around his lower chest, but there was little else to be done under the circumstances.

  Keiran, in pain and exhausted, began to lose his humor about the situation. His sister and Sytir had retreated back to their own room, knowing the vampire simply wanted to rest.

  Jerris was still agitated over the events of the evening. He paced before the tiny fireplace in the room, stopping occasionally to stoke the flames, trying to keep the heat up for his injured friend.

  The guard paused at one point, looking over to see Keiran still awake. “Do you think I stayed far enough away from that sword?”

  “I… I suppose. You weren’t very close to it.” Keiran closed his eyes, each word paining him. “If you’d been any closer, Athan would have killed you before the sword did.”

  He shrugged. “The entire fight lasted only seconds. I hardly had a chance.”

  “It felt longer than that,” Keiran said quietly. Through the pain, the corner of his mouth still quirked up and his eyes opened. “I hurt him, Jerris. That was the first time in my life I’ve ever been able to actually do anything to him.”

  Jerris reciprocated the expression. “Watching him run away like he did was amusing.”

  “Most undignified exit I’ve ever seen him make.” Keiran felt a new, unwelcomed tension growing in his lower chest. “Serves him right.”

  “Got your proof for Mari, though.” Jerris tipped his head toward the bloodied dagger sitting on the bedside table.

  Keiran looked over, eyeing the weapon. “All it proves is I’ve obtained a dagger like the one Theryn suspects I owned before. I don’t know it if it will help or hinder the cause.”

  There was a knock on the door. Jerris looked at Keiran, the vampire nodding his permission for the guard to answer.

  Sytir stood there, Jerris stepping to the side to allow him to enter. The Nahli had to duck his head to get through the doorway.

  “Where’s Kayla?” Keiran asked.

  “Asleep, finally.” He moved to Keiran’s bedside, staring down at him. “I’m sorry my powers are limited. I’ve been away from home for a long while, otherwise I might be able to help you.”

  “Nothing a little blood wouldn’t fix,” Keiran sighed. “I’m a bit faded, as well.”

  Sytir motioned toward Jerris. “Why not use him?”

  Jerris’ eyes widened, sickness winding up in his stomach.

  Keiran shook his head and forced a smile. “Jerris can’t handle such a thing.”

  “Is he not required to obey you?” Sytir asked.

  Keiran tried to shake his head, but it sent a shockwave of pain through his body. “I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work like that between us.”

  This supposed king’s refusal to make a demand of an underling perplexed him. Sytir’s thin brows rose, the strict caste system of his own society not being so fluid.

  “I suppose it’s not my place to question such a thing. I did come for a reason, however. May I see your sword?” he asked.

  Keiran lifted the fingers of his left hand at his side, weakly motioning to where it leaned against the wall, sheathed. “Over there.”

  Sytir approached it with caution, slowly reaching out and picking it up.

  “Don’t take it out,” Keiran warned. “It’s toxic, I’m led to believe.”

  “Indeed it is, hence why I made no move to go near you or intervene with your encounter earlier.” Sytir held the weapon in his hands with a degree of reverence, slowly turning back toward the vampire. “I know exactly what this is. I knew it the moment I saw it hanging from your hip when you arrived here.”

  Despite the pain it caused him, the excitement of getting answers to the weapon’s origin prompted him to wriggle and sit up with a great degree of effort. “Is that so?”

  “Indeed.” One of Sytir’s hands slid down the sheath. What Keiran had simply assumed to be decorative engravings along its length were, to Sytir, pictograms of a long dead language. “Kayla told me your mother had one of these, but to see it…”

  Keiran’s curiosity was piqued. His move to sit up had caused a wave of dizziness, but he pushed through it. “What is it then? No one back home could tell me anything about it. None of them had ever seen such a thing.”

  Sytir came over, sitting on the edge of the bed, resting the sword across his knees. “Your people know nothing of the lands this came from or of those who produced it.”

  “Is it Nahli?” Jerris asked, stepping closer to them but keeping a leery distance from the sword.

  “No, we have no means of creating such a thing.” He reached up, tucking some of his braids behind an elegantly pointed ear. “The metal is called perillium, and it is just as toxic to my people as it is to yours. The act of mining it or forging
it would be absolutely fatal if we’d ever tried.”

  “Then who did?” Keiran asked, pressing a hand against the wound to his side.

  “There is a land on the other side of the world. Trees and plants won’t grow there. The animals that go in wither and die. Beneath the hellish landscape lay the perillium mines. The territory belonged to the Roliths, and they alone had the means to obtain and forge this.” Sytir shook his head, looking over at the vampire. “With such weapons, they conquered and enslaved many other nations.”

  “I know that sword has some age on it. Do these Roliths still exist?” Keiran asked.

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “If any of them still survive, it isn’t in their old territory. There was a great war against them when other nations rose up to end their tyranny. It lasted for thirty years, but the Roliths were eventually defeated and scattered to the wind. The perillium weapons were amassed and thrown down into the mines before they were sealed. How this one escaped, and how it ended up in the hands of your family is baffling. Undoubtedly, some were lost on the battlefield and never accounted for but to end up here?”

  Keiran tried to sit up a little straighter, his chest continuing to tighten and his breaths starting to feel shallower. “If we had more of such things, going after Athan’s regime would be easier.”

  Jerris scoffed. “And who but you could wield them?”

  “Fair point,” Keiran said, trying to move again.

  Sytir picked up the sword and brought it closer to his face, reading the symbols upon it, but they gave no hint. He set it down again, frowning. “The Grand Chieftain would surely demand I confiscate this and take it with me for proper disposal.”

  Jerris turned around, scowling. “Like hell!”

  Keiran protested as well. “It’s the only thing I have to combat Athan with!”

  Sytir gave one of his thin smiles and lifted a hand toward the vampire. “Worry not. The Grand Chieftain is not here, and I have a personal interest in seeing Athan done away with. Unlike most of the Nahli who have a more detached view of Lord Vercilla, my grudge is personal. You know how to handle this and acknowledge how dangerous it could be. I wouldn’t deprive you of any of the narrow advantages you may hold over him.”