The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI

by Samantha Sabian

  She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, marveling at how good she looked and felt. She then headed back up the stairs, intent on bringing her captive to several trembling climaxes before the girl fell into an exhausted slumber for the rest of the day.

  Chapter 11

  Raine sat on the cliff’s edge, contemplating the abandoned fort below her. Hestr was once an imperial garrison, but it had fallen into disrepair after years of disuse. The stone walls were crumbling, the metal gate was rusted, and vines threatened to overrun the entire structure. Still, there were signs of recent inhabitants in the courtyard: a shiny cooking pot hanging from a spit, a rack of gleaming swords, and a butcher block that was stained red with blood from who-knows-what.

  “That’s not a good sign,” Feyden said, eying the butcher block.

  “No it’s not,” Raine said, “but it’s not necessarily a bad one. Only the younger vampyres resort to cannibalism, having not fully transitioned from food to blood. The practice is repulsive to the elder and barely tolerated.”

  “So there are young here?”

  “It’s hard to tell,” Raine said, “there may only be a handful of the young. What do you see, Torsten?”

  The Tavinter scout examined the scene below with expert eyes. Although they were some distance above the layout, he could still make out distinctive signs such as footprints. He scanned the ground which was well trod upon, the vegetation that was displaced throughout.

  “There are many of them here,” he said at last, “dozens and dozens. Maybe as many as a hundred.”

  “Thank you, Torsten. It’s as I expected.”

  Torsten crept back along the cliff’s edge to his post. Raine had debated pulling him away from the search for his beloved leader and friend, especially since he was currently the surrogate leader of his people. But Torsten had jumped at the chance, chafing at his failure to find any sign of Skye.

  Lorifal spoke in low tones so that only Raine and Feyden could hear. “A hundred of the Shadow Guild?”

  “No,” Raine said, shaking her head, “I don’t know that there are even a hundred members of the Shadow Guild total. I would be surprised if there are even one or two here. It’s rare that they congregate, which is why the attack in Haldis was so unusual. Among other reasons,” she added as an afterthought.

  Feyden looked askance at this last statement.

  “The attack seemed very ham-fisted for the Shadow Guild,” Raine explained, “too easily thwarted.”

  Feyden and Lorifal looked at her in disbelief.

  “Four assassins infiltrate the Ha’kan capital,” Feyden began, “and despite heavy security, position themselves for a clear shot at the dignitaries without being detected. They are only ‘thwarted’ because you were able to knock their arrows from the sky with impossible skill and some uncanny sense I can’t even fathom.”

  “And,” Lorifal joined in, “there just happened to be a dragon there to get to the third and fourth assassins.”

  “Okay,” Raine admitted, “when you put it that way, maybe it was better planned than I thought. But still I can’t shake the feeling…”

  “What feeling is that?” Feyden asked.

  “That I’m being set up,” Raine said. “That I’m being manipulated for some unknown purpose. We’re killing a lot of vampyres, and that doesn’t seem to bother Malron’a in the slightest.”

  “Doesn’t bother me either,” Lorifal said, running his finger down the blade of his axe.

  “Good point,” Raine admitted. She looked back down at the seemingly empty fort below. “This won’t be easy, though. The largest part of that fort is built into the mountainside. It’s likely dark in there, and vampyres are always stronger in the dark.”

  “That’s true,” Feyden said. Vampyres were weaker in the daylight, which had spawned other unfortunate falsehoods that they could not travel during the day. Woe to the unwary traveler who believed they were safe in the sun. “We have to figure out a way to draw them out.”

  Raine glanced to the sky. “I have sent for help, so I suggest we wait until it arrives.”

  Time crawled by on the cliff’s edge above the fort. It was Raine’s desire to draw them out from their dark fortress. Torsten and his few Tavinter scouts had been directed to stay on the cliff and provide ranged support with their bows. Although the Tavinter had a degree of natural resistance, and Elyara had given all protective enchanted artifacts, Raine did not wish to risk the Tavinter to the vampyre bite. It created a whole new level of threat that was not present in other battles. The bite of a Hyr’rok’kin could cause disease and even death, but there were some things worse than death. It was one of the reasons why she decided against enlisting the aid of Rika and Dallan. The Queen would more likely forgive the death of her daughter than her turn to vampyrism.

  Raine was content to maintain watch of the garrison and sat comfortably on the ledge. Feyden and Lorifal were equally patient, and Lorifal passed the time by methodically sharpening the blade of his axe. The sun was high in the sky and provided warmth in the cool mountain air.

  “What is this?” Raine murmured, and her companions perked up.

  A band of a half dozen heavily cloaked figures rode into the quad of the garrison. Their mounts were restless and uneasy, partially because of the unnatural creatures on their backs, and partially due to the despairing cries of the prisoners they dragged behind them. The riders were vampyr, undoubtedly, protecting themselves from the sun with their thick mantles.

  Raine observed the wretched prisoners and muttered her favorite elven expletive that roughly translated to “the gods have fucked me.”

  “Agreed,” Feyden said. The prisoners were terrified, their clothing in disarray, their faces full of misery. When one woman saw the butcher block, she screamed, and one of the cloaked figures cuffed her in the side of the head. She fell to her knees and her breasts spilled out of her ripped clothing. The man who struck her pulled back his hood, leering at the fallen woman.

  “I might have to have a little fun before we eat this one,” he said, and his companions laughed. He grabbed the woman by the hair and began to drag her into the nearby shack, his intent to take her on the bloodstained floor before he killed her.

  “I don’t think so,” Raine whispered through gritted teeth. In an instant, her bow was in her hand and with a sharp twist of her wrist, the risers snapped out to their full length. In another instant the arrow was notched and loosed. It was an incredible shot, for the man did not take one more step before he was impaled through the torso with such great force it threw him forward and pinned him to the shack’s wall.

  “He’s young,” Raine said with satisfaction as he dissolved into a pile of ash. “I bet all of these are, if they crave flesh and not blood. Fire at will.”

  Feyden was already complying, as were the Tavinter scouts. Arrows rained down with deadly accuracy, wreaking havoc below. The prisoners cowered on the ground, which helped their rescuers from above. But one of the vampyres was not as young as Raine thought, for he had several arrows protruding from him and had not slowed down. While his companions were dissolving into ash, he grabbed the woman who had been dragged and pulled her in front of him as a human shield.

  “Damn it,” Raine muttered. “Can you hit him?”

  “Not without killing her,” Feyden muttered back, his bow taut with the poised arrow.

  Raine glanced to the Tavinter, who were also trained on the vampyr, but Torsten shook his head.

  “If he gets to that door…” Feyden warned.

  “It will be disaster,” Raine said, her thoughts racing furiously. Once the vampyr and his hostage were inside, the element of surprise was gone. They would be fighting a much stronger and larger horde than the one in Digranes. And they would be doing so in a convoluted maze of tunnels, unlike the open cave before. And although these thoughts took but an instant, the vampyr was so f
ast he was already at the heavy wooden entrance. Raine’s bow hovered in the air, the shot primed to kill both the foul creature and the woman.

  And she didn’t take it.

  The vampyr and his hostage disappeared.

  “Damn,” Raine said, and grabbed one of the ropes they had secured to make their way down from the cliff. She flung herself over the side, lowering herself in great leaps as she spooled the rope and pushed away from the rocky wall. The wooden door had hardly closed when she was rushing for it, her companions right behind her, instantly understanding that the plan had changed.

  “Run!” Raine commanded the prisoners, slashing their bonds with terrifying speed made only slightly less so by its accuracy. “Get out!”

  The prisoners, startled at their sudden change of fortune, complied with alacrity. They fled the courtyard, certain that they had been saved by some stunning demi-goddess.

  Raine hit the door with such force that Feyden was surprised it did not give way. But it was locked solid.

  “Lorifal, help me with this!”

  Lorifal slung his great axe over his shoulder, and together he and Raine charged the door. It gave way with a tremendous booming noise, the hinges torn from the frame as the door itself splintered from the impact.

  “Well, they know we’re coming now,” Feyden murmured. He probably could have picked the lock.

  Raine allowed her eyes only a second to adjust to the dark, then rushed into the corridor, swords out. She had walked but a few steps when she came across the woman slumped against the wall.

  “She’s been bitten,” Raine said angrily. It was an act of spite for the vampyr had not had time to feed upon her. “Torsten, your healer.”

  Torsten nodded to the Tavinter female at his side, and she kneeled and began to apply the poultices. It was uncertain if the treatment would work, for they had no mages with them to offset the magical attack of the disease. But it would slow the progression until they could get her to safety and aid.

  Raine stood upright. Their need for haste had lessened, but not diminished entirely. They no longer had to rescue this woman, but the vampyres knew they were here and could rally a defense. And the sounds of an uproar off in the distance, one that echoed back down the stone hallway toward them, indicated that resistance was already forming.

  “We could wait,” Raine said indecisively. What she wanted to do was rush down the hallway, swords swinging. But she didn’t want her rashness to endanger her companions.

  “Too late now, lass,” Lorifal said, striding past her and hefting his gigantic axe. “My blood’s up.”

  Feyden shrugged. “You know what that means. That’s an enormous stone that, once rolling, cannot be stopped.”

  Lorifal gave him a black look, uncertain if he was being complimented or insulted. He decided to accept the compliment.

  “Indeed,” he said over his shoulder.

  The light from the sole torch by the entrance slowly disappeared as they made their way down the corridor. Lorifal went first because his dwarven eyes, used to living underground, saw almost as well as the vampyres in the dark. Raine was right behind him, and she sheathed her swords and redrew her bow with the same snapping movement. She notched an arrow and kept it poised above Lorifal’s head, exploiting the tactical advantage of the difference in their heights. Lorifal’s gait changed ever-so-slightly and Raine loosed the arrow down the corridor. There was a cry in the darkness and Raine fired a second just to make sure. When they reached the right turn of the corridor, there was a pile of black ash against the wall.

  “Nicely done,” Lorifal said, and they continued on.

  They had moved only a short way down the second hallway when a slight odor, a sulfuric scent caught Raine’s attention and the hair on the back of her neck stood erect.

  “Get behind me,” she whispered, forcefully pulling the stout dwarf to her rear. It was none too soon, for a blast of freezing cold came down the hallway upon them, frigid enough to freeze them solid. But it was not actual cold, but rather magical energy, and Raine had a gift that no one else in Arianthem had: a total immunity to magic. The cold flowed around her body, funneling around the small troupe that crouched in her wake. Lorifal caught the edges of it as, even sideways, he was a bit wider than Raine. But he was most suited for the assault due to his dwarven heritage and heavy armor, and it had little effect. Feyden and the Tavinter were safely behind him.

  Raine again loosed several arrows rapid-fire into the darkness, and again there was a cry, a curse, some gurgling, and then silence. She turned to assess her comrades, and everyone appeared fine, although the Tavinter were a bit wide-eyed at the feat. Feyden, who was used to the extraordinary deeds of his friend, was taciturn.

  “That looks uncomfortable.”

  Raine glanced down at the ice that caked her leather armor. “It is a bit unpleasant.”

  Lorifal hit Raine with the flat of his ax, which staggered her slightly and caused the ice to crack and fall to the ground. Torsten winced at the blow.

  “Thank you,” she said sarcastically, and Feyden grinned.

  There were several rooms off this current corridor, but they were empty. Some were in disarray and bore signs that the occupants had recently fled. Candles still burned and half-eaten meals were on the tables. Lorifal wrinkled his nose at the bloody meat on the plates. He was going to enjoy killing these monsters. One room housed several cowering wood elves, and they could not believe they were being rescued.

  “Follow this corridor to the entrance,” Raine directed. “It turns twice, but does not fork. Keep running until you get to the forest.”

  They were in ill-condition, but not so ill they could not flee. They staggered away, feeling their way down the stone walls in the dim light. Raine watched them for a moment, then started back down the corridor, now in the lead. The hallway was beginning to widen and faint light seeped towards them.

  “Prepare yourselves,” she warned.

  The corridor emptied into a main hall, perhaps a place of dining when the garrison was still under imperial command. It had high ceilings, was flanked by two balconies, and seemed to disappear at the far end of the room where the pillars had collapsed and the floor buckled into a black pit. It looked empty, but it most assuredly was not.

  “Torsten, you and yours will guard this door. When the fight begins, light the torches. Cut down everything that tries to flee. Feyden, you and Lorifal will take that right balcony, I will take the left.”

  The three began creeping through the dim light, and Raine had the sensation of being watched by a multitude of eyes. She re-folded her bow and drew her double short swords. This fighting was going to be very close quarters.

  “Attack!”

  This signal was more of screech than a yell, and it would have caused even the hardiest to tremble had not these three faced far worse. They were surrounded, then smothered, as creatures flew at them from all sides. Lorifal and Feyden fought back-to-back, and Raine turned into a whirling funnel of death so that she killed on all sides. The room burst into light as the Tavinter lit the torches and absorbed their own frontal attack, using daggers and short swords much like Raine’s. The monstrosities fell in great number but were replaced without end. The blue and gold markings of the Scinterian stood out in bold relief on Raine’s skin, an ancient testimony to supernatural skill, and the air around her was so thick with ash, it was difficult to breathe. She leaped to the balcony railing, then down to the hall below, landing on the table in the center of the room. The creatures followed her and continued to meet death at the edge of her blade, and soon that air was fouled as well. She made her way down the table, her footwork flawless on the uneven surface, and so many of the monsters had fallen their numbers began to look manageable.

  And then she was hit by a brick wall. Something that struck her with such force it not only propelled her from the table but slammed her against the
stone wall where she was pinned. Raine gazed at a spectre of beautiful death. It was a woman, her head hooded but her features visible as they were face-to-face. She was both angry and pleased, possibly even slightly aroused by the lethal individual she had pinned.

  “It’s about time,” Raine said sarcastically. She braced her foot against the wall behind her, then shoved forward with all her might, now propelling her assailant backwards and slamming her against the opposing wall with just as much force as had been used on her.

  “You do live up to your billing,” the vampyr said, and shoved Raine backward so that she tumbled over the table yet still managed to land on her feet. The vampyr drew two daggers and Raine became acutely aware that she was unarmed: both her swords and bow had gone flying when the creature had tackled her. But she was rarely without a back-up weapon and she, too, drew double daggers. The vampyr leaped at her and the daggers became a blur as every blow was blocked, parried, countered at a speed which mortals only dare dream. The fight was so furious they cleared a large area around them, which Raine realized was a very bad thing. All of the vampyres who had concentrated on her were now free to attack the others. And although the Tavinter were holding their own, Raine did not know how long that was going to last. She glanced up at Feyden and Lorifal, who were also now overwhelmed with additional combatants.

  The vampyr, too, noted the change in the battle and sought to take advantage of Raine’s momentary inattention. She dove in for a strike, which Raine parried, but her goal was not for the blow to land but rather to put Raine at the edge of the dark pit at the end of the room. She kicked Raine’s feet out from under her and Raine grasped the front of her cloak so they both tumbled into the blackness below.

  “Raine!” Feyden called out, having caught sight of the plight of his friend. He snatched a torch from a nearby sconce and hurled it toward the pit where it disappeared into the gaping hole. The action cost him, however, as a vampyr latched onto his arm, biting clear through his leather armor. The bite did not last long because a great axe came swinging through and decapitated the head that was biting.