Bloodsworn

by Nathan Long

  Stahleker and Rachman gave her hard looks.

  ‘Well you won’t get it from us, bloodsucker,’ said Stahleker, then stopped and looked around. ‘Wait here. Come on, Rachman.’

  Ulrika snorted as they hurried off, then regretted it. She wasn’t in much condition to go anywhere. The pain of the bullet wound was like an anvil sitting on her chest.

  A second later there came a scraping sound and she raised her head. Stahleker and Rachman were pulling the body of a witch hunter along the bank by the legs. It was the one Yasim had trampled to the ground.

  ‘This one’s still alive,’ said Stahleker as they dropped him beside her.

  ‘Thank you,’ murmured Ulrika, and pulled herself onto the witch hunter.

  Stahleker and Rachman turned quickly away as she sank her fangs into the dying man’s neck. She gulped down his blood, desperate for the relief it would bring, but as she grabbed his belt to pull him closer, a sick heat made her hand sting and she raised her head. The witch hunter had two pistols stuck through his belt and a shot pouch hanging next to a powder horn. The pouch was giving off a nauseating warmth.

  Ulrika tugged it free and looked inside – silver shot, nearly a dozen round bullets. She touched the pistols. They too were warm to the touch. She looked around. Von Graal was drinking from a slave twenty yards away. He wasn’t looking her way. One pull of the trigger…

  No. Not now. She had not yet learned all she wanted to know, but later perhaps. Yes. Though the heat of its purity sickened her, she tucked the pouch of silver shot away and shoved the pistols through her belt, then returned to feeding on the dying witch hunter.

  ‘A total victory, lord,’ said von Graal as he rode at Kodrescu’s side. ‘All dead, including a powerful warrior priest and a handful of witch hunters, and fifty mounted corpses added to our horde.’

  ‘Very good,’ said the general, then looked at Ulrika. ‘And how did our stray conduct herself?’

  Von Graal sniffed. ‘Tolerably, lord. She was brave enough, but put herself in unnecessary danger, as you can see by her wounds.’

  Kodrescu looked at her. ‘Is this true, girl?’

  Ulrika lifted her head with an effort. It was taking all her willpower to stay in the saddle. The blood she had drunk had helped heal her wounds, but she still felt like someone had inserted a hot brick in her chest, and every motion of her horse made her wince and sway. Still, she could not stay silent, not even if it meant facing von Graal. She would not let a threat intimidate her. ‘No,’ she rasped. ‘It was necessary.’

  Von Graal shot her a murderous glance, and opened his mouth, but Kodrescu spoke first. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Captain von Graal has not told you the truth. He fled from the priest’s fire. The lances were going to break. I charged the priest and–’

  ‘Liar!’ cried von Graal. ‘I did not run! I slew the priest, despite your disobedience and the burns it cost me. You are trying to heap glory upon yourself at my expense!’

  Kodrescu held up a hand. ‘Finish your story, girl.’

  ‘There isn’t much else to tell, lord. I killed the priest and fought the witch hunters. Soon after, Captain von Graal returned and slew the last of them and the battle was done.’

  ‘More lies!’ said von Graal again. ‘She did no more than assist me!’

  Kodrescu kept his eyes on Ulrika. ‘Can you prove what you say?’

  Ulrika glanced at von Graal. As it stood, it was his word against hers, and she did not doubt who Kodrescu would favour, but there had been other witnesses. All she had to do was call on Stahleker to tell what had happened. If she did that, however, she would force him to speak against von Graal, which would cost him his Margot, and no doubt his life, for Stahleker did not seem the sort of man to let another have his way with his woman without a fight – even if the other was a vampire.

  Ulrika clenched her fists around her reins. What was the difficulty? Why should she hesitate? Why should she care what happened to Stahleker? He was only a man after all, and she had vowed vengeance against all of humanity. But he had found her blood when she needed it, and he was a good commander where von Graal was a bad one. She shook her head.

  ‘It happened as I said it did, but I cannot prove it. I can only give you my word.’

  Von Graal sneered. ‘And how much is that worth? You have already turned on your previous master and your mistress before that.’ He turned to Kodrescu. ‘My lord, I must avenge this insult upon my honour. I wish to challenge this conniver to a duel.’

  Ulrika smiled. There it was, as promised. Von Graal must have known she would kick. He had wanted this from the beginning – a way to kill her without raising Kodrescu’s ire.

  Kodrescu nodded gravely. ‘I grieve that this rift has happened, but you are within your rights. You will have your duel.’

  ‘I accept,’ said Ulrika, ‘though I hope my lords will allow me to recover my wounds first.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Kodrescu.

  ‘Lord,’ said von Graal, ‘she brought these wounds on herself. They are part of her guilt. She should be prepared to fight with them.’

  ‘And you should be prepared to fight her without them,’ said Kodrescu. ‘This is an affair of honour, captain. Not murder.’ He waved a hand. ‘You will fight her after we have taken the monastery. Now see to your own wounds, and congratulations on your victory.’

  Von Graal bowed, stiff. ‘Thank you, lord. And I am prepared to face her under any circumstances.’ He peeled off and started down the column, very upright in the saddle.

  Ulrika watched after him, then turned back to Kodrescu. ‘Lord, I told the truth. He sacrificed our advantage so he could challenge the warrior priest.’

  Kodrescu turned a cold eye on her. ‘Do not tell tales,’ he said. ‘It isn’t honourable. If you found him incompetent, you should have killed him and led his men yourself.’

  Ulrika blinked. ‘That is better?’

  ‘The strongest should lead,’ he said. ‘That is the law of nature. That is my law.’

  ‘And if someone tries to kill you and lead your men?’

  A savage smile spread across Kodrescu’s face and he stroked Wolf’s Fang. ‘Let them try.’

  Ulrika rode in silence as the column continued north, her mind churning. When she’d found Kodrescu, he had offered her battle and glory, and she had been tempted by it. She still was. She wanted to be in at the charge when they swept down on the monastery. She wanted to fight without holding back. At the same time, the more she knew of the man, the more she found him a fool. He was not a good general any more than von Graal was a good captain. A good general promoted good leaders, not good duellists. This was a game to him. He didn’t truly care if Sylvania won the coming war. He was in it to win personal glory – a conqueror, not a ruler, a savage, simple being. But was that worse than von Messinghof’s cold manipulations? The count had cut her with silver – and as coolly as if he had been adjusting her collar. The calmness of it still made her shiver.

  So, the spider or the wolf? Who did she give her loyalty to? Both would give her the vengeance she craved, but for how long? Who would keep her fighting the longest? The answer to that came down to the real question: who would win when they met? Would von Messinghof’s tactics carry the day, or would Kodrescu’s brute strength and Lady Celia’s risen horde crush all before them? Would–

  Ulrika paused, goosebumps rising on her arms, for she suddenly knew the answer. The one who won would be the one she sided with. If she stayed with Kodrescu and did not warn von Messinghof of his coming, Kodrescu would win. If she escaped and told von Messinghof of Kodrescu’s plans, von Messinghof would ambush him and destroy him. She, who had been a pawn in the games of others since she had died, now had the power to be a kingmaker!

  So, the question remained – the spider or the wolf?

  chapter twenty

  SHARPENING
THE KNIVES

  Once she gave it some thought, it wasn’t a hard decision. Ulrika might be able to help Kodrescu defeat von Messinghof, but in the end Kodrescu would defeat himself with his vanity and his pride. Von Messinghof, on the other hand, had the brains and political savvy to survive during and after the war. If Ulrika set the crown on his head, he would rule well and give her battle for all eternity.

  Good. It was a relief to have it settled in her mind. But, how best to help? If she flew back to von Messinghof with Kodrescu’s plans, he would be able to mount an ambush and very likely defeat the renegade, but the battle might decimate both armies and leave the Sylvanians too weak to attack Karl Franz. Was there a way she could sabotage Kodrescu before she left?

  For a moment she thought of betraying him to the templars of the Monastery of the Black Rose and letting them destroy him, but then put it out of her mind. Von Messinghof would not thank her for slaughtering troops he considered his own. No, the destruction of the templars and the raising of their dead was key to the count’s plan. It had to happen, but when it did, Kodrescu would have a huge army of zombies under his command, and it would make it that much more difficult to defeat him when–

  A sudden thought stabbed ice through her spine, and she clutched the saddlebow to keep from falling. What if that huge army was under her command?

  Ursun’s teeth! Wouldn’t that make von Messinghof sit up and take notice! She wouldn’t be sleeping in the barracks after that! But… but could she do it? Could she kill a vampire so sure of his skills that he invited his subordinates to challenge him? Her eyes flicked to her saddle bags, where the pistols and stolen silver shot were hidden. There were ways, but if she did kill him, would the rest of his army follow her?

  Her eyes darted around the column, taking in all the players and sizing them up. Von Graal she would certainly have to deal with. He would not bow to her command. Indeed, if Kodrescu was dead he would try to take command himself. Could she defeat him in their duel, or should she find a way to kill him beforehand? Either way, he would have to die.

  Morgenthau, on the other hand, seemed ripe fruit. Ulrika had seen how Kodrescu humiliated him. He would likely have no trouble betraying the general, but at the same time, he had already betrayed von Messinghof. It would be difficult to convince him that the count would welcome him back with open arms. Nor could he be trusted not to turn again should the opportunity present itself.

  And what of Lady Celia? She was the most powerful of all, and Kodrescu’s lover. She could expect no help there. Indeed, she might have to kill her first. But no, she couldn’t. Von Messinghof was counting on the army of undead she would bring back to him. How could she be convinced to join Ulrika after Ulrika had killed her paramour? It seemed impossible. Perhaps she could be tricked in some way, though how, Ulrika didn’t know.

  She looked at Stahleker. What bitter irony that the human was the only one she thought she could trust. He had proven a clear-headed ally, however, and after the way von Graal had treated him, his loyalty to his current masters must be strained to the breaking point. But was he enough? Right now his four hundred men made up the bulk of the army. Kodrescu, von Graal and Morgenthau only had a hundred blood-and-bone knights between them, but after they took the monastery and the town it would be different. Von Messinghof had told Ulrika that the town of Bruchben had some three thousand citizens, and there were more than three hundred knights and acolytes in the monastery. Once all these were slaughtered and raised by Lady Celia’s necromancy, Stahleker would be outnumbered ten to one.

  Ulrika bit her lip. Stahleker was key, but if she couldn’t get Morgenthau on her side and discover a way to deal with von Graal and Lady Celia, he wouldn’t be enough. How was she to do it? She would have to give it some thought, and quickly too. The battle for the Monastery of the Black Rose would come the next night.

  Kodrescu’s army made camp two hours before dawn. Bruchben and the monastery were close enough that they could have reached them before the sun rose, but arriving so late would have left them no time for battle. Instead, they pitched their tents out of range of the monastery’s far patrols, and made their final preparations.

  Kodrescu called his officers into his tent and gathered them around a rough map of the monastery and the town. The monastery was tucked against low wooded hills overlooking a cultivated valley through which ran the Werkenau river. Bruchben was on the same side of the river, a half-mile through the woods to the west via a narrow path. A larger road ran along the far side of the Werkenau, and there were bridges across the river that connected it to the monastery and the town.

  Kodrescu pointed to the monastery. ‘The wards the monks have placed upon their walls make them almost impenetrable by our kind. If we were to lay a siege, it might take weeks to break them. We haven’t the time for that.’

  ‘Then how do we get in?’ asked Morgenthau.

  ‘We do not,’ said Kodrescu, smiling. ‘They will come to us.’ He swept his finger to the town. ‘The Black Guard are sworn to fight the undead wherever they appear, and the monastery has strong ties to the town. Many of their servants and initiates come from there. So when they hear that it is being ravaged by a vile vampire and its minions they will have no choice but to come to its aid. And when they do…’ He described a circle around the town with his finger. ‘The rest of us will be waiting.’

  ‘That still leaves some in the monastery,’ said von Graal. ‘They won’t all come, and the wards will still be in place.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kodrescu. ‘It will remain impossible for us to enter. That is why we travel with living men. Disguised in the armour of the templars that we kill in Bruchben, Stahleker’s lancers will ride into the monastery and kill the priests that maintain the wards. Then we will sweep in and finish the rest.’

  Ulrika frowned. And who would ‘the rest’ be? A few servants and stable boys? Where was the glory in that?

  ‘I suppose I am to be the vile vampire who threatens the town,’ sighed Morgenthau, ‘as I have the face for it.’

  Kodrescu shook his head. ‘I told you, captain. I cannot yet trust you in battle.’ He pointed to the bridge that crossed the Werkenau near the monastery. ‘You will hold this bridge and make sure no cunning templars try to cross the river and come up behind us.’

  ‘But – but how likely is that?’ asked Morgenthau, spluttering. ‘They will go straight down the forest path. You leave me out of the action entirely.’

  ‘Until a dog learns to obey simple commands like sit and stay,’ said Kodrescu, ‘it does not deserve to be in at the kill.’

  ‘I am not a dog!’ growled Morgenthau.

  ‘Then prove it!’ said Kodrescu. ‘Show me you can follow orders and I will allow you to be a wolf again.’

  Morgenthau opened his mouth to retort, but von Graal spoke first. ‘Then who will attack the town? Not I, surely.’

  ‘No,’ said Kodrescu. ‘You are too valuable to risk.’ He turned to Ulrika. ‘You will do it, girl. You and forty of the lancers, with some of Morgenthau’s bone knights and von Messinghof’s winged terror to help you.’

  Ulrika blinked, unsure whether to be honoured or insulted. It was pleasing to hear that the general trusted her more than Morgenthau, but in the same breath he had suggested that she was more expendable than von Graal, as expendable as the lancers, who he was sending ahead to be cannon fodder twice in one night. ‘Me? Are you certain, lord?’

  ‘You told me you wished nothing more than vengeance upon all mankind,’ said Kodrescu. ‘This is your opportunity to begin. The town of Bruchben must be wiped from the face of the earth.’

  Ulrika thrilled at his words, her fears of being expendable fading. At last she was being allowed her revenge, and Kodrescu was letting her be the leader of men she was meant to be! It was almost enough to make her reconsider betraying him.

  A short while after the meeting, Ulrika went to Morgenthau’s tent and
found him pacing back and forth while his hulking servants polished his armour and weapons. He looked up at her with his pink eyes as she entered.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Are you regretting your decision?’

  The pink eyes narrowed. ‘Are you Kodrescu’s spy?’

  ‘Can you think it?’ asked Ulrika. ‘You may have been told to sit and stay, but he has made me nothing more than bait for a trap. He expects me to die in Bruchben.’ She glared towards the door. ‘I won von Graal’s battle for him, and Kodrescu knows it, but the flame-haired coward will lead the ambush while I am to be trampled under the first charge. I am expendable.’

  ‘And why do you tell me?’ asked Morgenthau. ‘Do you wish me to pat your hand and mouth sympathies? Please. I would prefer to be alone.’

  ‘What I want,’ said Ulrika, taking a step towards him, ‘is for you to answer the question. Are you regretting your decision?’

  Morgenthau stared at her, frowning, then his eyes widened and he reached for his dagger. ‘You are von Messinghof’s spy!’

  ‘Easy, lord,’ said Ulrika, holding up her hands. ‘You jump to conclusions.’

  She turned her cheek to show the cut von Messinghof’s silvered blade had made on her face. It was still black and raw. Morgenthau winced at the sight of it.

  ‘He scarred me, for eternity. All so that Kodrescu would believe I had left him for good.’ She snorted. ‘Ruse or not, I did not intend to come back after such treatment. It was too much.’

  ‘Did not? You have changed your mind again?’ sneered Morgenthau.

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’ She sighed. ‘We are caught between two imperfect masters, a petty tyrant and a smiling manipulator – and must make a decision.’

  ‘It is an easy one for me. Von Messinghof would take my head if I returned.’

  ‘Even if you returned at the head of Kodrescu’s army?’

  Morgenthau gaped, then looked nervously towards the tent flap. He motioned to his two men. ‘Ulsler, Bohn. Watch outside. Make sure no one comes near the tent.’