Blood, Blades and Bacon (Thorns of the Shadow Book 1)

by Matthew Roys

  “Things are stirring,” Jearl said aloud. “When you were injured I saw how much everything was tensing. The Grand Moot seems to be going through some internal conflict about something and powered creatures are gathering all across the world. Something is pulling at the threads that bind us.”

  Déaþscúa nodded. “I can feel it. We need to investigate it but we deal with Annis first, this time once and for all.” He looked back at KT who had fallen silent. Sweat drenched her skin. Her breathing was shallow but still there. He took out his phone and held it to his ear.

  “Niall, we’re on our way to you now. Yeah. Right. Give us twenty minutes. Make sure that you’ve got a healer's tent set up with some anti-vampirism tonic. KT has been stabbed. Fatally. The vampirism is keeping her alive but I want it gone as soon as we get there. Right.”

  The SUV fell back into silence other than the steady groans from KT. Déaþscúa stared forward with eyes that burned with intensity. He ran his fingers along the length of his sword that rested between his legs. Elizabeth had her hand on KT’s forehead, a deep frown marring her features.

  “She’s still fading. The wound is closing itself but the strain is killing her as effectively as the injury itself.”

  “Her body is fighting the vampirism,” Ailia explained, interest tinging her voice. “She really is a resistant then?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Being resistant to magic has its disadvantages. It’s harder to heal them. Most die from wounds that could be cured in others.”

  “I’ve healed her easily enough before,” Déaþscúa told them. “I never picked up on anything special about her.”

  “Your powers don’t constrain themselves to conventional laws of magic. I imagine that her skill is developing though. She is growing more resistant to magic the more she is exposed to it. If I’m correct then you won’t be able to help her any more, even if she did survive,” Elizabeth suggested.

  “We’re here,” Jearl announced as the SUV began to slow.

  Niall and a handful of his brothers greeted them when the car came to a stop. Their mood was bleak but they looked anxious to save the girl’s life after allowing so many of their own to perish. Together they quickly bundled KT off into a nearby tent and laid her out on a fold-up table. Tools and bottles filled boxes that lined the tent’s walls. It all looked very shabby.

  Niall was stony faced as he looked upon the girl. He already looked years older than the last time they had met despite it being only a matter of days. “We’ll do what we can for her, Déaþscúa, but most of our supplies burned and our best healers were caught in the massacre. Not-That-Mad Willy is our battle-healer.”

  He beckoned and a clean-shaven man approached them. He wore a plain apron over his plaid clothes and had a slighter build than most of the other MacFeelans. One of his eyes were blue while the other was a dark brown. Saws and scissors hung from his belt and bulged out of his pockets.

  “Ye like te push me, Déaþscúa, that ye do,” the man muttered as he circled the girl. “Ye bring me a pretty wee corpse te stubborn te stop whimpering and want me te perform miracles. Not-That-Mad Willy is a damn miracle worker if nothin’ else though.” In a flurry of movement, the man buzzed around the tent like a hummingbird. “What blood-type is she?”

  “Unknown,” Ailia answered. “I know my blood by taste and hers tasted different. Sweet.”

  Not-That-Mad Willy grunted something unintelligible but never stopped rummaging through the few supplies that were left. With his arms full of plants and vials he strode back to KT. Carefully, with help from Elizabeth, he stripped her down to her underwear and examined the wound closer. He went to unfasten a necklace from around her neck but Déaþscúa stopped him. He eyed the metal with a furrowed brow. His hand reached out to touch it until he shook his head suddenly and moved away. Not-That-Mad Willy continued as though he had never been stopped.

  He busied himself around KT with a series of liquids and tools, muttering to himself constantly as he worked. His hands flashed through a rainbow of colours as he worked. “Right, we pour this vial inte the wound te accelerate tissue growth, shove some o’ these leaves in there te help with the blood and numb the pain and this nasty smelling liquid down ye throat. Come on lassie, head up. Be glad ye are unconscious as it tastes worse than a goblin’s sweaty ballsack and believe me, when you're hungry you’ll try anything so I ken.”

  He grabbed a handful of thin wooden skewers from a chest then began to rub a gel in small dots across her entire body. Once he was satisfied he started to stab the skewers into the glistening patches. He continued this until a dozen of the wooden spikes jutted up out of her. These new injuries did not bleed but the wood slowly began to darken, almost as though the wood was withering and rotting before their eyes.

  “Lizzy, look in that box over there. It has all o’ me apothecary gear in it. Brew me up a milk based regenerative solution with extra goat horn and a healthy shot o’ scotch. No painkillers,” Not-That-Mad Willy ordered briskly. Even as he spoke, the glow around his hands grew brighter, one settling on a green colour while the other turned purple. He placed the purple hand on KT’s forehead while the green hand rested over the hole in her chest. Both started to glow with a fiery intensity that lasted for several long minutes until sweat drenched No-That-Mad Willy’s face and clothes.

  The lights faded away. Not-That-Mad Willy stepped back. “I’ve done all that I can. I’ll give her Lizzy’s concoction once it’s done but there is nothing more. She’s still alive, which is a miracle itself. From here on out it’s all on the poor lass’ shoulders alone.”

  “Understood,” Déaþscúa replied quietly.

  Chapter 20.

  “I seem to remember instructing you to bring me the girl.”

  The voice was that of a woman and was spoken calmly, yet an edge of menace tinged every word. Annis didn’t so much speak daggers but rather poisoned needles.

  She sat at an old table in a gloomy room. The faded decor was from decades past and looked to have been abandoned for nearly as long. Across from her sat the white clad swordsman while the hulking man with red hair lounged on a trashed settee.

  "You're lucky that you have anybody,” the swordsman answered coldly. “I had to pass up my opportunity to fight Déaþscúa to bring you that wretched boy. The girl is dead. Déaþscúa has lost his newest tools just like you wanted.”

  Annis’ eyes stared into his head as he spoke. Since she had absorbed the power from the fort her very aura seemed to radiate strength. It was growing increasingly hard to be in her presence. Without looking away she picked up a glass of red liquid that the man doubted very much was wine.

  “The White Swordsman, Damian Saint. Your reputation suggested that such mistakes would not occur. Well, no use crying over spilled milk. Déaþscúa is defenceless and our pieces are in place. Another few days and I will be able to unlock the portal.”

  Claine grunted contemptuously. “All yerr speak of is this damn portal. With yerr powerr ye could rule the world yet ye waste all yerr time chasing legends.” His voice was deep and gruff while his words seemed to roll from his tongue like a beast’s warning growl.

  “While you waste your power bullying the weak,” Saint said with a sneer. The two glared at one another.

  Annis ran a metallic nail across the rim of her glass. The sound filled the room. Both men froze.

  "We're all here for our own goals. Let’s not pretend that we're united towards a common cause. The only thing we're united by is Déaþscúa himself. So, on that note, how do we deal with him?”

  “Forget Déaþscúa. I’ll fight him when the time comes, just like you promised. I would rather have fought him in his prime but a crippled legend is still a legend,” said Saint.

  “Ha!” snorted Claine. “Ye rreally think ye can beat Déaþscúa in a fairr fight, eh prretty boy? Why seek yerr death?”

  “Where is your honour, beast?” Saint countered. “A man’s life is judged by his achievements. We pick a purpose and work until
we are the best. True men do not wallow in the shadows of others. Not that you’d understand.”

  “Yerr rright. Fuck that. A man’s life is about how much he enjoyed it. Sex, booze and violence is a betterr code to live by than yerr drrivel. Be strong enough to take what ye want without fearring rreprrisal from otherrs. I amnae too proud te say that Déaþscúa makes me fearr my sins.”

  The ringing of nail on glass began again. Claine fell into silence. Annis stood and walked over to the cracked window, her back turned to the two men.

  “Déaþscúa will be gathering his own forces now. We have prodded enough for him to snap. No doubt we will have a war on our hands. A charming meld of clashing ideals between myself, Déaþscúa and the Grand Moot. We're about to change the world. I want this village fortified with all of my minions at the ready.”

  Outside it was starting to snow again. The dreary shells of the surrounding buildings looked almost serene in the frosty glow. Figures of all shapes and sizes lurched through the snow on Annis’ bidding. It in no way looked like a place where the first battle in an earth-changing war would take place.

  “Go,” Annis said eventually. “See that the preparations are on track. I wish to speak with our new guest. Then I will begin the ritual. In less than a week we will be in a new world. A world of peace.”

  Saint didn’t need telling twice. He left the building with the lycan following behind him. As soon as the door thudded shut a tension left his body that he hadn’t realised had been there. Annis was not the sort of person he would usually have had dealings with but fate had different ideas.

  He had tried to kill her at first. What better show of skill was there than to kill that which Déaþscúa had been unable to? He had been young then. Reckless and stupid. His skills were exceptional but that had only led to an inflated ego. Annis had beaten him with little more effort than the flick of a finger. She hadn’t killed him though. Sometimes he wished that she had.

  Instead she had given him the power to pursue his dreams. He had continued to hone his skills and make a name for himself but he never directly confronted Déaþscúa. He had learned that lesson well enough. Now though, the witch was calling in her favour and the time was finally nearing when Damian Saint would duel with the world’s greatest swordsman and take that title as his own.

  He gazed through the snow, taking in every visible detail. He had already committed it all to memory but he liked to know every inch of a battleground long before first blood was drawn. He was vaguely aware of the cold though it didn’t bother him. Part of his training had been to suppress external discomfort and pain.

  “I’d rrun if I werre you, prretty boy,” rumbled Claine from behind him. Even in his human form he smelled like wet-dog.

  Saint didn’t bother to turn to the man. “I’ll leave the running with a tail between the legs to you.”

  A growl behind him brought a slight smile to Saint’s lips. The man was too easy to get a reaction from. He had done his research on the man, just like every other person of interest who might be within a hundred miles of Saint at any time. He was a rare blood-lycan, born with the gene rather than bitten. He was stronger, faster and more durable than an average lycan, his human form almost matching the wolf form of his regular kin. His only real weakness was his reliance on that brute strength.

  “Tell me, lycan, why do you follow Annis?”

  The growling stopped. Saint glanced back to see the man grinning.

  “I’m a simple man. Annis prromises a worrld wherre I can hunt the powerrless te my hearrts content. It’s a dog eat dog worrld. Surrvival of the fittest. We should rrule this worrld but instead we grrovel te weaklings. Annis has big plans and I intend to be therre te rreap the benefits of the chaos.”

  Saint didn’t answer. Hatred of the weak was probably the only thing they shared in common. Claine had been born strong while Saint had put his weaknesses to the sword and trained himself until few could stand against him.

  He opened the door to another building filled with crates.

  “There is still a lot of work to do. Let’s just hope that Annis doesn’t feel the same about those weaker than herself.” He paused in the door’s threshold. Claine barged past him. After a moment’s hesitation, Saint turned and followed their footprints back through the snow.

  Annis was still stood where they had left her. Her back was still open to the room as she gazed out from the window. Saint watched her through a different window. He had no reason to go back inside the building but treacherous thoughts bubbled in the back of his head that had drawn him to return.

  This could be his chance to kill her. She was stronger than ever before but her body was visibly struggling to contain the power. Increasingly, all of her focus was being diverted to her preparations for opening Heaven’s Gate. It was a monumental task and the mental and physical strain was taking its toll.

  A cold laugh escaped his lips. Perhaps he could use her distraction and kill her before she could tear him to shreds with her power. The more he considered it, the less he favoured it. He had no fondness for the woman. In fact, he would say that he hated her. Her goal of returning the world to an age of legends intrigued him though.

  What purpose did a master swordsman have in a world where the worthy were slowly dying out? He had no place in a powerless world. What would he give to experience a world where terrifying monsters plagued the lands and legendary warriors waged war among themselves? To live in a world where his skills were valued and could be further honed?

  The thought boosted his spirits. He turned away. That was a world worth allying with Annis to achieve. He would protect her, if only long enough for her work to be completed. As soon as the gate was open, well, that was another matter entirely.

  Chapter 21.

  Everything was dark. Even when he was sure that his vision had cleared and his thoughts had returned to their rightful places, it remained dark. Not a pitch black darkness but a murky gloom that lay upon everything. It didn’t obscure his surrounding, only made everything a grey wraith of itself.

  Kai groaned as his body caught up with his mind and feeling returned with a vengeance. He forced himself to his feet, half expecting to find himself restrained in some way. He was not. None of his weapons were in sight but all of his clothes seemed undamaged. He had a better look around now that he could move.

  He appeared to be in a dusty basement. It felt like he was underground constantly as of late. The room was completely bare except for a single door. And a shadowy figure blocking it.

  “It took you longer than I expected to wake,” said a female voice.

  There was a sound of a switch being flipped then a single lightbulb spluttered out a dull, yellow light. Black Annis stood before him, her corpse-blue skin draped in delicate black silk. Long black hair framed an elegant face and ice blue eyes studied him. Kai had to admit, she was a beautiful woman and not at all the old hag that the legends had made her out to be.

  He retraced his memories until they came to an abrupt stop when the swordsman had smacked him in the head. A lurching dread passed over him. He remembered fighting. Then KT had been stabbed. Rage bristled through him. Anger and fear fought in his chest.

  “Where is KT?” he asked in a low, clear voice. It took all of his effort to keep a calm face. He wouldn’t give the woman the satisfaction of seeing him in distress.

  “Dead. Darrian Saint informed me that it was a fatal blow and I’m inclined to believe him. Did you know that he is the only man born in the last century who can stand against Déaþscúa with a sword? He is a truly remarkable young man.

  Kai’s breath caught. Emotions torrented through him unchecked. None of it showed.

  “I’ll kill you,” was all he said .

  Annis laughed. “That’s the spirit. “Having so many men who dedicate their lives to me is so very flattering. I would have preferred your sister to be here. Déaþscúa always had a soft spot for women. You’ll have to do though.”

  “Having me mea
ns nothing,” Kai said. “Déaþscúa won’t come running any quicker for me than any of the others you’ve taken. If you think you can turn me against him like in all the books and movies then you’re delusional.”

  Annis’ grin grew further. “Believe me, that is not my intention. I know that you would never join me. I have no need for followers. I have my orders to complete but I’ve no need to kill you. I am nothing but a pawn seeking peace after all.”

  “You’re a sick, twisted monster,” Kai growled. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “What do you want with me?”

  Annis didn’t answer. Instead she opened the door behind her and motioned for Kai to follow. The space beyond was tiny. Stairs led upward and a trapdoor opposite them led down. Annis opened the latch on the trap door and disappeared down it. Kai eyed the stairs but joined Annis at the bottom of the ladders. This new room was about the same size as the one he had woken up in, only it was far from empty.

  A dozen wretched figures huddled in the corner. They cast fearful glances at Annis but made no sound. Kai recognised them.

  “Dad!” he shouted, running to the cowering crowd. Most flinched at the loud noise and sudden movement but one lurched from his stupor.

  “Kai?” asked Bob Redthorn in a weak voice as he staggered to the front.

  Kai barrelled into his father, wrapping his hands tightly around the man, tears in his eyes. The man was thin, dirty, and dishevelled but returned the hug with equal vigour.

  “You’re safe. Thank goodness. I thought you were dead,” his father said through growing sobs. He calmed himself enough to look into his son’s eyes. “Where’s your sister? Where is KT? Is she safe?”

  Kai hesitated. “I don’t know. She was in trouble before they took me but she’s in the safest hands I know. Mum is safe though.”

  “Tara… I thought… I saw her being dragged away by those… those creatures. She’s really alive? Susan, did you hear that? Tara is okay.”