by Nathan Long
‘Thank you for the warning,’ said Ulrika, then turned her horse and rode up the temple steps. She looked out over the Blood Knights. ‘You have the same opportunity. Will you kill me and turn fugitive, or will you return with me to von Messinghof and live to see Sylvania’s victory?’
The vampires all looked up at her, silent and cold, and Stahleker motioned the lancers to move in front of the steps, just in case, but finally one of von Graal’s lieutenants raised his hand.
‘Lead us back,’ he said, ‘and I will follow.’
‘As will I,’ said another. ‘But if von Messinghof orders our deaths at the end of this trail, do not think you will escape the slaughter.’
One by one, the others followed suit, raising their hands and pledging to follow. They did not look pleased, and they did not look trustworthy, but they looked resigned. For now it was enough. Ulrika was certain their instinct for self preservation would keep them loyal, at least until she brought them back and won them their amnesty. To be on the safe side, however, she would ask Stahleker to post a double guard on her tent.
‘Very good,’ she said, when all had raised their hands. ‘Now, rest and see to your wounded and plunder as you will. The treasures of the monastery are yours to keep. We will start for von Messinghof’s camp at sunset.’
As the Blood Knights and lancers began to turn away and talk among themselves, Ulrika rode her horse back down the steps to Kodrescu’s body. She dismounted and knelt, then took Wolf’s Fang from his hand and its scabbard from his belt.
‘To the victor, the spoils,’ she said, and strapped it to her waist.
The next night Ulrika led her army down the forest road from the monastery and the ruins of Bruchben, then skirted the town of Ryker by turning into the woods just east of it and spending the day in them. The next night they reached the Reik road and sped south along it, moving openly and slaughtering every merchant, pilgrim, soldier, highwayman and roadwarden they encountered, and leaving them to be raised by Lady Celia when she caught up to them. No one escaped their blades.
Ulrika had no choice but to move openly. There was no time to be covert. When she had left von Messinghof, he had told her that Karl Franz and his retinue would reach Arschel in twelve days. Her flight to find Kodrescu and the journey to the monastery had taken five of those days. She had to return to the count’s camp as quickly as possible and hope that, if they killed everyone, there would be no one to spread tales of their coming to the Emperor’s retinue.
Towards morning on that second night, Ulrika led her army into the village of Werkenau and killed everyone in it. The vampires fed and the lancers looted, but only for so long. There was no time for indulgence. They were away again in under two hours and made six more miles before they had to take shelter again in the woods and wait out the day.
The next night, they laid waste to the fortified inn known as the Blessed Grapes and were on their way again before the baggage train had caught up with them. One night after that, after more bloodletting on the road, they turned at last into the Stirwood, and one night later, only three hours after sunset, they were challenged by one of von Messinghof’s wide patrols. Ulrika had made the trip with two days to spare.
As she waited for word to be sent to the camp, Ulrika went down the column, chivvying the lancers and the Blood Knights to get their kit in order and dress their ranks. She had done a difficult thing and done it well, killing Kodrescu and his gang of traitors, while keeping their troops loyal and bringing them back before time, and she wanted her triumph. She wanted to come into the camp a hero, so her train had to look the part. She had the Blood Knights put on their helms, and had Stahleker and his men put on the jacks and tabards of the Morrian initiates, which were more uniform than their own haphazard armour.
At last the word came that they could come ahead, and Ulrika took her place at the head of the column dressed in her black doublet, breeks and riding boots, and with a black enamelled breastplate looted from the corpse of one of the smaller templar initiates. Yasim was combed and curried until she shined, and looked like a statue of herself.
Ulrika squared her shoulders and raised her hand. This was what it was all about. This was glory. ‘March!’
As they came out of the trees and into the human section of the camp, she lifted her chin. Everyone had come out to see her. The camp followers and household troops of course, but also the Sylvanian officers and Blood Knights, emerging from the red glade to watch as she marched the column to a halt in front of von Messinghof. The General stood in the centre of the camp, looking up at her with a stern expression on his face, the nuncio, Emmanus, to one side, and Rukke, looking sullen, to the other, while Blutegel stood quietly behind.
‘My lord,’ said Ulrika, bowing from the saddle. ‘I return you your troops.’
The count’s eyebrow raised. ‘This is not what I asked you to do.’
Ulrika stiffened. She had expected a warmer reception. She had almost forgotten that she had broken his original order. ‘No, lord, I–’
‘Where is Lord Kodrescu?’
‘He – he is dead, lord, by my hand.’
‘And von Graal? Morgenthau?’
‘Also dead. Also by my hand. They were traitors, lord.’
Rukke choked and Emmanus hissed. Blutegel stifled a smile.
‘Books of Nagash!’ said Emmanus. ‘She has killed more of us than have the Lahmians!’
Von Messinghof waved them silent and folded his arms. ‘So, instead of reporting this back to me as I asked, you took it upon yourself to murder three able commanders and take command of a fifth of my army?’
Ulrika’s spine prickled. He was not seeing this as she’d hoped he would. ‘Lord, by the time I learned their plans, it was too late to return to you. They would have already been marching back to fight you with all these troops. Such a battle would have reduced your numbers, no matter what the outcome. I thought it better to avoid the battle entirely.’
The corner of von Messinghof’s mouth quirked up. ‘And making yourself my most powerful general was only an accidental by-product of this plan. I see.’
‘Lord, I assure you–’
Von Messinghof held up a hand. ‘Do not protest. I applaud you. Your von Carstein side is showing at last. I must remember to watch my back.’
Ulrika opened her mouth to assure him of her loyalty, but before she could speak he bowed to her.
‘Well done, obercaptain. And thank you for returning my troops to me. They are needed.’
‘Obercaptain!’ barked Rukke. ‘You promote her? Over me?’
Blutegel put a hand on his shoulder, but Rukke shrugged him off.
‘You should execute her!’ cried Emmanus. ‘The master will hear of this!’
‘I’m sure he will,’ sighed von Messinghof. He beckoned for Ulrika to dismount, then started for the red glade. ‘Come. We have much to discuss.’
Ulrika’s eyes widened. Obercaptain? That was more than she had expected. She swung off Yasim and started after him, her shoulders thrown back and her chin high.
‘Do not trust Lady Celia,’ said Ulrika.
She stood on one side of the count’s map table, while von Messinghof and Emmanus stood at the other and Blutegel hovered in the background. Rukke had not been asked to join them. ‘She bowed to me only because the alternative was death. She has no love for me or you.’
‘Well I know it,’ said von Messinghof. ‘She was Kodrescu’s lover for centuries, but she is wise enough to know that I must succeed here in order for her to have a future. She will not strike until Karl Franz is dead and the Empire is ours. After that…’ He smiled grimly. ‘I will keep my eyes open. Now…’
He looked down at the map and pointed at the white king, which was still on the road to Nuln. ‘You returned only just in time, Obercaptain. Tomorrow night Karl Franz will be the guest of Baron Ambosstein, and the next night h
e will come to the manor of Lord von Arschel, and we will be waiting.’
Ulrika grinned with excitement. ‘So, at last we will step from the shadows and raise the flag of Sylvania? They will finally know who we are?’
Emmanus snorted derisively. ‘No smarter than the fools she killed.’
Von Messinghof smiled. ‘I admire your boldness, but we must still be more subtle than that. It will be the Lahmians who are blamed for Karl Franz’s death.’
‘But what better way to have mankind fear you than announce that you have slain the greatest leader of the Old World?’
‘They will know in time,’ said the general. ‘But it is still too early. A nation that perceives a threat from outside its borders unites against a common foe. A nation that perceives a threat from within will fracture and suspect its neighbours.’ He unrolled a smaller map that showed all of the Empire, and began moving his finger from province to province. ‘The Emperor will die in Wissenland, beset by Lahmian vampires. I have already set a rumour in motion that Countess Emmanuelle is a Lahmian. This will pit Wissenland and the Reikland against each other. Middenland and Talabecland will both see an opportunity to seize power while their southern neighbours fight. They will move against each other in order to prevent the other from stealing the prize. The four most powerful provinces will be locked in a bloody, four-sided war, while the rest line up to choose sides, or withdraw within their borders and wait for it all to be over.’
He stabbed his finger at Sylvania. ‘Then and only then will Lord von Carstein sweep in and crush all before him.’
‘Our conquest will be assured,’ said Emmanus.
Ulrika smiled at the thought of the world of men falling into madness and self-destruction. It was only what they deserved. She imagined riding back into Nuln at the head of an army and bringing it low, and the Lahmians with it. She would find Famke there and take her from the sisterhood’s airless chambers to show her the new empire, an empire made safe for their kind because it was ruled from sea to mountains by the aristocracy of the night.
The tent flap opened, waking Ulrika from her daydream, and Otilia entered, her face drawn and grim. She noted Ulrika’s presence with a twitch of her cheek, then turned to von Messinghof and Emmanus and curtseyed.
‘My lord, I have grave news.’ Her eyes slid to Ulrika. ‘News which should only be shared with your most trusted advisors.’
‘Speak,’ said von Messinghof. ‘Ulrika has my complete trust.’
‘She shouldn’t, lord,’ said Otilia, ‘for there is a spy, and she is the only other who knew the secret.’
The general shot a look at Ulrika, but then turned back to Otilia. ‘Tell me. If it was her, she will not leave this tent.’
Otilia pursed her lips. ‘Doktor Gaebler is dead. An accident, apparently, but I see the hand of Lahmia behind it.’
Emmanus cursed.
Von Messinghof’s eyes widened. ‘This is grave news indeed.’
Ulrika swallowed uneasily, Gaebler’s involvement in their plot on her mind. ‘Besides you, lord, only myself and Ulrika knew of the plan,’ said Otilia. ‘The swains who assisted in the capture never knew Gaebler’s name or his significance. She must be the spy.’
Ulrika took a step back. ‘Lord, I did not do this.’
‘Can you prove it?’ asked Otilia.
‘I cannot,’ said Ulrika. ‘Can you?’
Von Messinghof held up a hand. ‘We will not descend to bickering. The circle of potential spies is wider than you think.’
They turned, Otilia scornful, Ulrika hopeful.
‘It might be anyone in the glade,’ said the count, ‘listening through the walls of the tent. It might be the slaves who feed Gaebler. And I have told Emmanus since, and Blutegel was here when we spoke of it, were you not, Blutegel?’
‘Indeed, lord,’ said the valet. ‘Though I spoke of it to no one, as you commanded.’
‘Not even Rukke?’ asked von Messinghof.
‘I swear to you, lord. He heard nothing from me.’
‘And you certainly can’t suspect me,’ growled Emmanus.
‘Lord,’ said Otilia, ‘the circle may be wider, but that does not mean you shouldn’t suspect Ulrika. She is still the most obvious culprit.’
‘As are you,’ said von Messinghof.
‘Lord!’ protested Otilia.
Von Messinghof waved her down. ‘I do not mean you went to the Lahmians, but you did go to Doktor Gaebler and tell him that we were holding his son. You did seduce him.’
‘I hope my lord has no complaints with my performance in that regard,’ said Otilia stiffly.
‘Not at all,’ said von Messinghof. ‘But it is possible you were followed. You may have unwittingly led the Lahmians to the doctor.’
‘I took every precaution,’ insisted Otilia. ‘I–’
‘How they know matters less than what they know,’ rasped Emmanus. ‘If there is a spy, he will not only have told the Lahmians about Doktor Gaebler, but likely divulged our plans to attack Karl Franz at Arschel as well. They will be lying in wait. They may even tell the Emperor of the impending attack. Our plans are wrecked, and until the spy is caught, we dare not make new ones.’
‘But we must,’ said von Messinghof. ‘There is no time for a witch hunt. We have but a day. I must form new orders that I can give my officers which won’t allow them to betray me.’
He laughed at that, black and bitter, then looked down at the map again. ‘Leave me. Yes, even you, Blutegel, and you, Nuncio. I must think.’
chapter twenty-five
AMBOSSTEIN
A half-hour later, with less than half the night left, von Messinghof strode from his tent and summoned his officers.
‘Prepare your troops,’ he said. ‘We ride tonight, within the hour.’
‘Tonight?’ said Lady Celia. ‘But I understood we would not leave until tomorrow.’
‘Plans have changed. Make ready.’
‘Yes, lord,’ said Lassarian. ‘But to where do we ride?’
‘To the west,’ said von Messinghof, and returned to his tent, snapping his fingers at his steward. ‘Blutegel! Prepare a bat. I must send a message.’
‘Yes, lord,’ muttered Blutegel, shaking his head as he followed him in. ‘Not nearly enough time to pack. Not nearly.’
All night, Von Messinghof’s army marched for the Reik by the most direct path, and reached it just as the sky lightened and the birds began to sing in the trees. Ulrika was surprised to see barges and boats waiting for them in the shallows, and realised what message von Messinghof’s bat must have carried. She marvelled anew at his organisation and thoroughness. Kodrescu would never have had the forethought to place boats upstream in case of a river crossing. Von Messinghof left nothing to chance. Nothing.
As the column broke up and spread along the river, von Messinghof’s officers dismounted and started giving orders to their men to make camp for the day, but the general rode among them, crying out angrily.
‘No! Get on the boats! We cross now, before we rest. We must be ready to march at twilight tomorrow night.’
‘But, lord,’ complained Rukke, ‘it will be full light by the time we are all across.’
‘You risk our skin,’ said Emmanus.
‘And if we wait a day we risk our victory!’ snapped von Messinghof. ‘Cross on the first boat and deputise your men to get the rest across before you take shelter.’
There was a lot of grumbling about this, but they did what they were told. Ulrika turned the details of the lancers’ crossing over to Stahleker, and went across with von Messinghof and the other officers and their mounts, who were followed in the next boat by the slaves who would raise their tents and make their beds.
‘Will you tell us now where we’re going, general?’ asked Lassarian, as the barge edged across the river.
‘South,’ said von Me
ssinghof, and nothing more.
The next evening, when the army got under way again, the sky was black with low clouds, and thunder rumbled from all directions, like giants belching insults at one another. Von Messinghof led them out of the woods and started south on the Reik road at a fast clip, pushing his cavalry and leaving Lady Celia’s undead to fall rapidly behind. For hours they rode on under the glowering sky, a half-mile-long column of racing vampire knights, bone knights and human mercenaries, with the white flashes of ghouls and the low black shadows of dire wolves pacing them in the woods on either side of the road, and above and before them, a floating phalanx of haunts, spectres, banshees and wraiths, drifting like an amorphous cloud.
The wolves and ghouls ranged far ahead of the column as well, slaughtering any they encountered, and as she rode at von Messinghof’s shoulder, Ulrika would see the grisly remains of coach passengers and horses, roadwardens and pilgrims, as the column followed in their wake.
Two hours before midnight, the road turned away from the river, and less than an hour after that, von Messinghof raised his hand and called a halt. The column stopped in the middle of the road, and the general called for his table and maps to be brought up and placed in a clearing to one side, then he gathered his officers around him.
‘Here,’ he said, unfurling the map. ‘I can at last tell you where we go, for we are now too close for aid to be brought by our foes.’ He stabbed a finger down at a dot north and east of Arschel. ‘Ambosstein. Karl Franz sleeps here tonight, the guest of Baron Ambosstein, before travelling to Arschel tomorrow. We will wait for Lady Celia’s dead to arrive, then attack, giving us roughly four hours to kill the Emperor before the dawn catches us and we must retire.’
‘General,’ said Lassarian, ‘Ambosstein is no manor. It is a small castle. This is why we chose to strike at Arschel, which is little more than a country house.’
‘Arschel has been compromised,’ said von Messinghof. ‘The Lahmians may know we mean it as our target, and likely lie in wait there, ready to ambush us.’
