by Garon Whited
“In essence, yes.”
Mary drove for a bit, looking thoughtful. I kept an eye out for anyone following us. I didn’t see them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
“Question.”
“Shoot.”
“Couldn’t we kill all the vampires in this world? I mean, you have magic. You know spells that can open holes in space. You can set fire to a finger and make the original owner scream. If we turn the tables and start hunting them, it would take a while before they caught on. By then we might have some leads on how the Elders live, as well as where. It might be fun, being a vampire-hunting vampire. What do you think?”
I thought about it for a minute. If I was going to go on a genocidal campaign, how would I do it? Offhandedly, I’d want a vampire of each tribe, a night with no moon, and a specially-prepared obsidian knife—unless I could grow a diamond large enough to use as a knife, then enchant. It might not kill all vampires, but it would kill most of them and severely inconvenience the rest.
Or, for a more long-term attack, some sort of self-propagating spell that could spread through the human population. Either to let them see a dark aura around all undead, or add a curse to their blood to affect whoever drank it. No, that wouldn’t work in this magic-poor world. Or, rather, it would take too many centuries to spread to everyone. And the magi would certainly notice it—would they stop it? Or would they spread it?
Maybe a self-propagating spell, spread from human to human, but only activated when a vampire drank from them? A parasitic spell fueled by the power in vampire blood, like an infection, with humans as carriers. Causing… what? Maybe it didn’t need to do anything but drain power from the vampiric essence. It could easily cause the local sort of vampire to become exhausted, maybe even comatose, regardless of day or night.
On the other hand, if I had a sample vampire from each of the three tribes, I didn’t have to kill them as ritual sacrifices. With access to sufficient power, I could use them for sympathetic magic and give vampires the world over severe problems. Later, after everyone was heavily weakened by repeated assaults, then I could use the subjects as sacrificial tokens… I’d probably want several members of each tribe. I might need to go through more than one in softening them all up for the killing stroke.
Then again, who says I need to tackle all three at once? Start by grabbing some random Phrygian and go to work on his tribe. When it’s eradicated, find a Constantine and repeat the process. If the Thessaloniki still don’t want to play nice, wash, rinse, and repeat. Or, in this case, chant, stab, and burn.
That last one could work. It was unlikely any of the local vampires were prepared to defend themselves against a high-grade magical attack. In Karvalen, where magic was much stronger, it wouldn’t work; the target would feel it coming and resist. Magical forces abound there, often used instinctively by natives to that environment to offer some resistance to its effects. Around here, it would sneak up like a thief in the night.
On the other hand, using any given vampire would be problematic. While all the members of a tribe share a common ancestor, the sympathetic effects would be felt most strongly in direct line. Progenitor to progenitor, progeny to progeny, up and down the bloodline. But brothers and sisters—that is, down branches of the vampire family tree—vampires that only shared a common progenitor would be harder to affect. It could still work, but it would take much more power. The spell wouldn’t really be much more complicated, but it would definitely need more oomph behind it.
On yet another hand, a spell that worked on one vampire at a time might be exactly the right thing. It could incinerate my captive, leap to his progenitor, incinerate him, and keep going up the chain. That could clean out the Elders. The power required would still be enormous, but, since I would be affecting the magically inept, maybe there was a way to draw some of the spell’s energy from the power inherent in the blood of the vampire it was affecting. If so, the spell could, theoretically, get stronger with every vampire it destroyed on its way up the chain—
“You’re thinking a lot,” Mary observed. “Should I be scared? I ask because I am scared. Not that I don’t enjoy a little excitement—”
“Or a lot of excitement.”
“—or a lot of excitement,” she agreed, “but long, thoughtful silences from you make me less excited and more nervous. I wonder what you’re thinking. I think you’re thinking about killing off all the vampires in the world. Am I right?”
“Yes. But none of the ways I’ve thought up are easy.”
“Oh, good. That makes me feel so much better.”
“Your sarcasm is noted.”
“Beat me for it later,” she suggested. “What did you decide?”
“Not to do it.”
“Okay, that does make me feel better.”
“Me, too.” I didn’t mention to her how much it bothers me that I might actually be able to. The only problem was the usual one: getting enough power together. It’s always something… and maybe that’s a good thing. Genocide shouldn’t be easy. Easy would make it seem like something casual. Most of the vampires present in the world may be perfectly decent people, trying to live their immortal lives without rocking the boat for humanity. True, some of them seem to be jerks bent on killing me off or drinking my blood, but what about the others?
“I’m still thinking,” I went on, “of going back to Karvalen. You did say you wanted to visit.”
“Yes, I did. It sounds like a nice place.”
“So, are we good to go?”
“As long as we’re coming back again, yes. Despite the recent troubles, I like it here.”
“Oh, we’ll be back,” I assured her. “I’m going to find the Icon of Infinite Evil. And I’m going to find who took it. And then I’m going to be angry at them.”
“Don’t you mean ‘angry with them’?”
“I’m already angry with them,” I corrected. “I’m going to be angry at them.”
“Ah, I see. It’s in the sense of ‘aimed at them.’ I get it. But first, we vacation in the kingdom of the living stone, right?”
“Yes. And for that, we drive. No more goofing off and stopping everywhere. Find me a highway and hit it. We need to collect power like never before. I’m going to put the power circle back up and spend the rest of the day working on more layers in my spells to convert road power into magic. We’ve really got to stoke up if we’re going to do this.”
“Is there a highway running along one of those magic line things?” she asked. I stopped, halfway risen from the chair, and settled back into it.
“That,” I said, slowly, “is a thought. A good thought. I should have had that thought, that’s how much I like it.”
“Thank you, thank you. Don’t applaud; just throw money.”
“I don’t suppose you have another stolen phone?”
“Sorry.”
“So much for cybersearching for a ley line map. I’ll have to do this the hard way. While I’m doing that, you keep thinking creatively. I need all the help I can get.”
I don’t know how magi find ley lines, but I went about it in the simplest, most direct way I could. There may be better, more sophisticated ways, but I’m not terribly sophisticated around this neck of the multiverse.
When we stopped briefly for Mary to get food—you don’t go through the drive-through lane with a vehicle like that, especially not with a trailer—I sat down at a picnic table and used my hand mirror. The scrying spell gave me a point of view from about a thousand miles up. A little filtering and some visual tuning gave me a view like a satellite image of the Earth, but in the magical spectrum. Hundreds of spots showed up, some bright, some dim, scattered all over the face of the world. It reminded me of a starry night sky. They were all connected by fine, pulsing lines—narrow threads of pale light flaring to brightness wherever they crossed. Where two crossed, it was a pinprick of light; were several crossed, it was a beacon.
Was there a road that happened to run along one of those lin
es? No. Of course not. We couldn’t get that lucky. Which left other power questions. Could we make use of any of the nexi-whatevers? Intersections.
The bright beacons of multiple-line intersections were all probably occupied. Of course, those were relatively few and far between.
On the other hand, a simple two-way cross might be useful. If we could find one, park on it, and basically drill down to the power center, maybe I could get enough of a charge to gate back to Karvalen.
It’s been five months or so. I wonder if anyone will immediately try to kill me. I doubt anyone could arrange for continuous coverage of the whole kingdom with a detection spell. It’s more likely anyone who wants to kill me keeps watch on my friends and favorite places. I’ll have to arrive somewhere else and phone ahead.
Anyway, after poring over a digital map screen and comparing landmarks, I think I’ve got a couple of minor spots that might work. One seems to be fairly close, only three or four miles southwest of Sheffield, Pennsylvania. Another is somewhat farther away, in Toano, Virginia. Another is a little bit outside Junction City, Ohio. There are a number of other spots, but they’re all three or four-line nexusesii, or whatever the plural of “nexus” is. The bigger ones are probably occupied.
I think I like the one outside Sheffield. It’s in the Allegheny National Forest, well away from any real roads, and seems isolated enough we might be undetected and undisturbed for a while.
The one in Toano is a little more problematic. It’s hard to tell for sure, but it looks as though it might be in the truck yard for a shipping company. Putting up an arch and chanting at it for a couple of hours might not go over well, especially if they’re a twenty-four-hour place. If not, we might get away with it at night… maybe.
The one outside Junction City seems pretty doable, though, if we have to. It’s in someone’s back yard in much the same way I might have a tree in my back yard. It’s a big field. We might be able to talk the owner into letting us use it for our “stargazing” or our “art project” or something. Money will probably change hands. The drawback, of course, is if anyone unpleasant shows up, they have a perfect line of sight on us. Of course, that works the other way, too. If they can see us, we can probably see them.
I discussed it with Mary. I think she agreed to the one outside Sheffield only because it was in a forest. She doesn’t like the idea of being dive-bombed by an explosive-laden drone. Come to that, neither do I.
Of course, first we have to drive around a bit and scoop up power. And I have to get some work done on preparing ideograms for the gate. Plus, we need something to build a gate out of… and a needle or compass or something to guide us to the exact spot.
The gate will be hard work, but first there’s more work to do before I can start working on it….
Mary is not only ornamental and dangerous, but she’s smart and resourceful. I kept an eye on the van—I stayed in and kept working—while she popped into a hardware store and brought back lengths of stiff plastic tubing. It wasn’t rigid enough to be pipe, but it wasn’t flexible enough to be hose. It was white, so I could use a marker on it with no trouble. It also braided moderately well.
Noting my desire to destroy temporary gates behind me, she also brought back a few rolls of heavy cotton string, a roll of heavy twine, two cans of lighter fluid, some fertilizer, and a bag of charcoal. The charcoal was for Bronze. The string and twine would run through the tubing and be soaked in lighter fluid, then the tubing packed with fertilizer as an oxidizer. When we left, the gate would burn, possibly even explode.
Am I allowed to love more than one woman? I mean, I love Tort—it’s taken me long enough to recognize it!—but can I love Mary, too? It hasn’t been all that long, realistically, but we’ve spent almost all of our time together together. She really does seem to get me. She has more of a taste for adventure and excitement than I do, but that might actually be good for me. I would be a stodgy, boring, stay-at-home guy, otherwise. Is she good for me? Am I good for her?
I’ll have to ask Bronze. After she finishes her charcoal—which I soaked in lighter fluid; she seems to like it better that way.
Friday, December 11th
We’ve been driving pretty much non-stop since yesterday. The spells to pick up and convert electrical energy from the power road are running as well as I can make them; there are dozens of layers involved. I only stopped adding conversion layers when we started to overheat the induction elements of the vehicle. The road probably thinks we’re a semi going uphill, rather than a van out for a cruise. The energy this setup produces is pumped straight into a storage gem.
The power circle on the van, however, is still sucking up everything in its path. I’m using some of it as I work on the tubing of what will become a temporary arch. Doing it now, investing the power ahead of time, means I won’t have to waste time on it once we’re there.
Bronze has also contributed. She’s quite happy to let the power scoop on the roof of her trailer feed the van’s power circle. It’s not much, by comparison, but every little bit helps. She’s pleased we’ll be going somewhere she doesn’t have to hide or conserve power. Being here must be like a man from the seacoast trying to go jogging on some high plateau. Bronze has a magical oxygen mask, but it’s still an annoyance to her, and therefore to me.
Mary did try to help on the magical energy front. I demonstrated to her how a nightlord can pour personal energies into a spell, then replenish those energies from the people we brush past in the night. The second part she’s got down pat; she used to feed off human vitality all the time. Storing it, directing it, channeling it, and using it? Not so much. She’s never had to, and her wizard training is still in the early stages. It will be quite a while before she’s good at it.
And… I think she’s got a small battery. She doesn’t seem to hold all that much vital essence. If she downs a living person and takes everything, she’s pretty much full. I don’t understand it. Is it a Thessaloniki thing? Do they not store much power? Or will her capacity increase with time and practice? Or is it a personal thing—that’s Mary, and that’s how she is? Would other people—professional mystics or wizards—have a greater capacity when turned into vampires? I’m not sure I want to experiment with it to find out.
Not for the first time, I wish I’d had a chance to interrogate Keria a bit more thoroughly. She’s the only magician-turned-undead I know of. As I understand it, she was demon-possessed for most of my nap. The demon didn’t work spells, since it was a demon, not a magician. Could Keria have done so? Did she keep her magical training and abilities intact as an undead? I guess I’ll never know.
On the plus side, Mary did a pretty good job of pulling up next to someone in an autodrive vehicle at night, stealing a slice of their vitality-pizza, and then giving me some of the energy she’d gained. Repeat the process a couple hundred times over the course of the night and it adds up to a sizable sum.
Now we’ve hit a couple of fast-food places in quick succession and, if we time it right, ought to hit our campsite a little before dark. Then, with the camper parked and Bronze loaded with our stuff, we can head for our magical drilling site. If we strike magic, we’re off to see the wizards. If not, we bust brush back to our camper and hit the road again.
Meanwhile, Mary’s eating those sausage and bacon breakfast burrito things. I shudder from smelling them. I’ll stick with the pancakes.
We pulled into a campground and paid for a pull-through spot. The RV now has an electrical hookup, water and sewage hoses, and a data cable. The data cable isn’t plugged in; we’re taking no chances we can avoid.
Sunset did its thing. Mary and I died together in the shower. With a water line, that works pretty well, but it’s also pretty snug. It’s really not built for two people, but as long as we pretended to be a double rotisserie, at least we rinsed about as fast as we sweat. Afterward, we took turns with the full cleaning cycle, each of us packing a bag while the other one washed. Once we were dressed for travel, we took a look arou
nd the camper for anything incriminating, illegal, or even vaguely clue-like. If someone came by, searched the place, and tried to figure out anything, what would they find?
Not much. The incriminating and personal stuff—including the Diogenes drive—came with us. Except the vampire fingers, that is. We burned those only to dispose of them, not annoy their owners. They burned well and completely.
We mounted up and headed off into the forest.
We got a few looks from the neighbors; Bronze was conspicuous, especially carrying us and our luggage. She’s huge, though; we had room for everything. Aside from those few stares, it was a clean getaway, I think.
Picking our way through unfamiliar forest took longer than I liked, but we had to take our time. Visibility was minimal due to the trees and undergrowth. The last thing I wanted to find was a ravine at thirty miles an hour. Bronze agreed with me. She remembers the time she hit a gopher hole at full speed. So do I. While it didn’t do us any lasting harm, it is not my most pleasant memory.
My makeshift compass—a length of wire suspended from a string—let us take a bearing on the nexus every few minutes. We homed in on it gradually, finally coming to a halt when the wire tried to tilt down. I dismounted and walked around a bit, marking a rough circle through the trees. The nexus was only about fifteen or twenty feet across, much smaller than the others I have known. Of course, those were larger, multi-line sites where magi had built their homes and established dominion. This was a mildly-favorable spot for spellcasting with slightly-elevated magical potential.
“Now what?” Mary asked, still sitting on Bronze.
“Now you can unpack the tubing,” I told her. “Pay attention to the colored numbers on the ends when you fit lengths of them together. Also, look them over carefully and make sure we didn’t abrade any symbols away going through the woods. Then you can start braiding them together. The blue numbers have symbols from this world’s magical alphabet; fit the one to the one, the two to the two. The red numbers have symbols from Karvalen. The green numbers alternate between alphabets. While you’re setting that up, I’m going to drill for magic and see if we get a gusher or a slow ooze.”
