The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “You are very pretty and strong,” Samara finally says, catching Mab by surprise with a small bow. “I think I see what Delvin Cunningham is saying. You are terrifying when showing your true nature. Yet I see how one can mistake you for a human and let their guard down around you. That makes me wonder if I have run into one of your kind before and never realized it.”

  “Just how many backhanded insults did you throw at me?” Mab asks, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. Deciding to accept what she assumes is a peace offering, the vampire relaxes and returns the bow. “My people don’t really settle in the Yagervan Plains region, which is why this took too long for us to notice. Your tribe system makes it impossible for a vampire to integrate, which is something we might want to remedy to make sure this mess never happens again. Though first we need to stop it from getting worse. Are you willing to take us to the tribes?”

  “That was nicer,” Delvin whispers, noticing that the woman is flexing her fingers. Her retractable claws are on the verge of coming out, but she stops them at the last moment. “There has to be a hiding place because I’ve been in the plains too long to not have come across at least one other tribe. It may be a huge region, but I know I crossed several migration routes and never even found evidence of recent passage. So I really need your help. Again, all we need is for you to guide us.”

  “Fine, but I have a condition,” the girl declares, shying away as she speaks. Her foot squishes into the thick mud and she momentarily freezes when a centipede crawls across her ankle. “You say you forced me to guide you to the haven. There’s a very good chance that they won’t like this woman and they might not like an outsider. So I don’t want to be seen as an ally if things go bad. I’m assuming one of you has rope, so I will ask that you bind my hands when we are nearing the other tribes.”

  “Cowardly child,” Mab growls, sickened by the mortal’s request. “Why don’t we find this place on our own? I’d rather lose time than be around such a spineless creature.”

  With a victorious smile on her face, Samara explains, “Because neither of you can find the haven. It is a hidden place that can only be found if you follow a specific path, which is not marked. Every member of every tribe is told of this when they turn fifteen and their brands are enchanted to erase the information if they ever turn against their kin. That’s why those who have been changed can’t find us and why Delvin has no idea where to go. The vampires are considered enemies and he was too young. The only way you will get what you want is to agree to my terms. Do we have a deal?”

  Mab and Delvin glance at each other, both annoyed that the girl has the upper hand. The vampire growls and turns away before she is tempted to rip the petulant child’s head off. A chorus of chirps erupt from across the watering hole as the birds sense her bloodlust and retreat into the grass, followed closely by four of the scaly predators. Reaching into his bag, Delvin finds a towel and clean shirt to toss to Samara. The girl opens her mouth to say something, but the warrior is already walking away.

  “It was only one simple request, outsiders,” she mutters as she finishes washing.

  *****

  The mournful roar of a hooded lion can be heard in the distance as Mab keeps watch over the small camp and pokes at the ashes of the dying fire. With the wildlife avoiding the vampire, the three travelers are able to rest on a cleared patch of ground. Delvin is restlessly shifting in his bedroll after having taken the first watch and barely sleeping the night before. Mab is sure he is dreaming about his failures from the pained look on his face and the occasional muttered oath to kill someone. Her eyes glimmering in the unrestrained moonlight, she stretches and wonders if she can sneak off to get something to eat. She cannot remember the last time she traveled with mortals who were not to be bitten and her fasting is beginning to show. The pitiful trail rations have kept the Dawn Fang’s stomach from rumbling, but a dull sheen is covering her skin and a few wrinkles have emerged above her arteries.

  “Are you going to bite one of us?” Samara asks as she sits up. The girl yawns, but refuses to go to bed while the vampire is on watch. “I saw a Dawn Fang go without blood for a while and they became feral. The Path Lords had to put him down because he was too far gone. How long until that happens to you?”

  “That happens to youngsters. Even then, it’s only a problem for changed ones,” Mab replies while she reaches through a shadow. She pulls a container of blood out of the portal and takes a long sip of the tangy liquid. “The primal bloodlust is strong for the first few years because your mortal instincts are crossing with the new ones. All of you think we’re mindless monsters, so that is the persona a new Dawn Fang will try to create. Especially if they aren’t brought before our king to be given to an instructor. It’s different for womb-made and converted old. We began as vampires or had been one for years, so we know our true nature. Still, I won’t lie and say I’m not tempted to drink enough of your blood to shut you up for the night.”

  “You’re not very nice,” the girl mentions while putting her boots on. “Does it hurt becoming a vampire?”

  “I’m too old to remember.”

  “How long does the change take?”

  “A few hours.”

  “What does blood taste like?”

  “Like blood.”

  Samara takes a seat on the ground next to the Dark Mistress and leans over to get a closer look at the woman’s face. Even through the sweat and dirt, Mab can smell the sweet crimson meal that is beneath the girl’s smooth skin. It is an aroma that reminds her of the early days when she hunted the streets of cities that no longer exist. With a smirk, she realizes that her younger self would have drained and robbed Samara without a second thought. As she thinks about her colorful past, Mab gradually becomes aware of the way her companion is sitting. The girl’s hair is pulled to the side by a clumsy bow and her neck has been unsubtly exposed as she pretends to stare into the inky darkness. If she had not been on the receiving end of so many barbs and insults throughout the day, the Dawn Fang would almost think Samara is offering herself as a snack.

  “I think I owe you an apology,” the girl whispers, rubbing her neck as it becomes stiff. A cringe of pain crosses her face as she presses on a small knot. “The only Dawn Fangs I’ve met were monsters, except for Mr. Rintz. I’ve been thinking a lot about him and how I never would have guessed he was one of your kind. He was rather charming and kind, which makes me think I’ve been wrong. You’re not like the Path Lords either and I shouldn’t treat you differently. Do you think we can be friends?”

  “Not going to happen,” Mab replies as she walks away. A tight grip on her wrist causes her to reveal her claws and she places them against the girl’s throat. “The only reason you’re still alive and here is because we need you. Keep this up and I’ll eliminate you as soon as our mutual friend has his back turned. Nobody would be able to stop me.”

  “I only want to be-”

  “Don’t try to say that again because I know what you’re really after,” the vampire interrupts, twisting Samara’s arm and lifting her into the air. She considers severing the girl’s vocal cords, but she knows it will cause problems with her other companion, his snores reminding Mab of his presence. “You aren’t subtle, child. Up until now, you’ve hated my kind and now you’re full of questions and want to be friends? Don’t insult my intelligence. Just spit out the request for me to turn you and wait for my answer.”

  Samara shifts uncomfortably now that her plan to ask when the vampire is in a good mood has been destroyed. “My family is probably gone, so all I want to do is survive and get my revenge. With the power of a Dawn Fang, I could do both and help in the fight against my former tribe. I promise not to become a Child of Clyde and obey all of your laws. My parents always said I learn quickly, so I won’t waste much of your time with training. You have to realize that our side can use all the help we can get. Please turn me into a Dawn Fang and take me under your wing. How do you make vampires anyway?”

  “That was a
lot of nonsense and rambling,” Mab replies, taking another sip of the blood. She offers it to the girl, who grimaces at the smell and turns her head. “There are two ways to make a Dawn Fang. Womb-made is when we reproduce naturally with one of our own. We can do the same with the member of another species, but there is only a fifty percent chance that the child will be a vampire. Fang-made are mortals that we bite and willingly change. Accidents are rare since we must inject some of our energy into the one we wish to bring into our world. Obviously the second is what would happen with you.”

  “So you’re going to change me?”

  Finishing her meal, Mab walks away from the girl and checks to see if Delvin is still in a deep sleep. She whispers in an ancient tongue and coaxes a few nearby spirits to keep the warrior in a pleasant state of blissful dreaming. The ephemeral figures coil around the mortal, their faces nothing more than featureless orbs that follow the Dark Mistress. Seeing that Delvin’s wrist is facing up, she is tempted to take another taste of his blood and see if she can figure out the mystery that is nagging at her. Mab settles for reaching into his shadow and retrieving another bottle of blood, this one glowing like the orange moonlight cast by Vir and Ult. The vampire returns to where Samara is patiently waiting and sits next to the girl, who again turns to expose her neck in anticipation.

  “I wouldn’t make you a Dawn Fang even if I was promised every gold and silver coin on Windemere,” the Dark Mistress calmly says, aiming a clawed finger at her companion’s forehead. She moves the mortal’s head back to a natural position, leaving a tiny scratch on her skin. “All you do is follow whatever you think will keep you alive. Survival is important, but you do it at the cost of those around you. It makes me wonder about your past. Did you try to escape the tribe with anyone else or did you use someone as a distraction? I’m betting on the second since you want to identify Delvin and I as your captors instead of companions. Such behavior would force me to eliminate you before your first year is up and that’s being generous.”

  “I . . . There was nobody to help me when I escaped,” Samara argues, her voice cracking and getting higher. Desperate to prove herself, she tries to steal the bottle from Mab’s hand, only to get shoved to the ground. “Don’t act like your people are so noble. All of you feed off the blood of others and I’m sure you hurt people when it suits your purposes. You even kill your own kind because they don’t go by your rules.”

  “Pathetic how you try to argue about things you know nothing about,” the Dark Mistress says, taking a sip of the sweet drite blood. Her eyes grow wide as the landscape becomes bright and motes of rainbow dust dance among the swirling clouds. “My people survive because we do what is right for our society. It is such a simple goal that I refuse to allow someone like you into our ranks. Of course you have others who aren’t as picky as me and would give you a shot. Some may even change you for entertainment because they know I’d step in as soon as you cause more trouble than you’re worth. Unless you can prove to me that you’re not a selfish brat, my fangs will never touch your flesh. Now go to bed because I’m sick of dealing with you.”

  Samara scowls and storms over to her bedroll, removing her boots to hurl them at the yawning vampire. The leather projectiles are effortlessly sliced to pieces and land around Mab, who goes about polishing her claws. She can hear the girl cursing under her breath for a few minutes before falling asleep. Mysterious voices take advantage of the silence to talk with the Dark Mistress and suggest various methods she could use to dispose of Samara. A dull pain is behind her eyes until a startling roar erupts in her head and scares the other spirits away, promising Mab a restful night.

  “Thanks for putting those dark spirits in their place, old friend,” she whispers while stretching out below the twisting sky. With a sigh of surrender, the Dawn Fang listens to the remaining voice continue talking. “Yes, I know you would have taken her and seen what she could do. The world doesn’t work that way anymore. Windemere really has changed since our younger days. We can afford to be picky now. No, I won’t claim the champion like I originally planned. He doesn’t need our power and he’s too . . . human for us. Just watch what happens and we’ll talk when I’m not busy. Exciting things are on the horizon, old friend.”

  *****

  “What is that?” Samara asks, slipping behind Delvin. She cowers at the sound of a screeching roar that she has never heard before. “I mean, I know what a Terzog is, but I don’t recognize the one in the air.”

  “It’s a griffin,” he replies before a blast of air knocks him back. “They don’t come this far into the plains, do they?”

  “No. Do we kill both of them?”

  “Just give the beasts some time. It looks like they’ll be finished soon.”

  Starting at the base of the tall hill, the rubbery grass has been matted down by the ensuing brawl. Punishing gales beat the ground whenever the griffin passes the beast that has dared to attack her. Standing at fourteen feet tall, the tawny-furred creature resembles a tailless baboon with crackling horns. Bolts of lightning erupt from the twisting pieces of bone, but the energy collected from the local storms does nothing to slow the griffin down. She dives low to strike the Terzog, only for the agile creature to jump a hundred feet in the air and reveal membranes that run from its wrists to its ankles. Gliding along the wind created by its opponent’s wings, the hooting beast evades the spiraling attacks. A clawed hand cuts along the griffin’s rump and she kicks out to knock the snarling beast away.

  “I think the Terzog is going to win,” Samara says as they watch the animals land. Both beasts paw at the earth, the griffin hunkering down in preparation of an attack. “He’s bigger and those wings probably make that other one clumsy on the ground. Betting the Terzog is smarter too.”

  “Kid, you have no idea what a griffin is capable of,” Mab states with a chuckle. She rolls her eyes at the look of hate she gets from the girl. “Just watch and see if you learn anything. Where do you think it came from, Delvin?”

  “I’m betting she traveled from Darkmill after a lengthy journey from Nevra Coil,” he answers before starting down the hill. Cupping his hands around his mouth, the warrior takes advantage of the pause in the battle. “Finish this fight, Lucy! Don’t tell me you’re going to let a flea-infested monkey give you trouble!”

  The griffin turns to the familiar voice and bounds toward Delvin, giving the Terzog an opening at her flank. With its sharp teeth bared, the beast dives at her side and stretches to grab her ankles. A burst of air hits its chin before the incoming wing strikes with enough force to make the Terzog stand at its full height. The griffin spins to slam its other wing onto the top of the ape’s head, driving it to the ground. Groggy and whimpering, the defeated beast starts to get up and freezes when it sees the sharp beak of the stronger animal in front of its face. The griffin screeches in the Terzog’s dirt-covered face, which sends the yelping creature hurrying away on all fours.

  “She didn’t kill it,” Samara points out when she comes up behind Delvin. She jumps back when the griffin leaps over to the warrior and starts pulling on his arm with her mouth. “Do you know this creature? It wants you to go with it.”

  “Sorry, girl, but I have something to do here,” he says, stroking the beast’s beak and freeing his arm. He moves away with she tries to catch him again and holds up his hands as if to calm her down. “I know Nyx wants me to come back and thinks I’ve been away too long. Maybe you guys even found a temple, but I can’t leave now. A group of Dawn Fangs have taken over my former tribe, enslaved my parents, and killed siblings that I didn’t know I had. I got my old friends killed, Lucy. I want vengeance, but more importantly it’s going to be a slaughter here if I don’t turn it into a fair fight. These people need me, so please give me another week. Nyx will understand if you explain all of that to her.”

  “This thing isn’t right,” Mab interrupts, touching the warm fur of the griffin. Putting her ear to the beast’s feathery head, she senses a few spirits lurking within the so
litary body. “There’s at least four beings in here. What kind of creature is this?”

  Rearing back on her back legs, the griffin shrinks and her fur becomes clothing and skin. A line of blood appears along the creature’s stomach, pausing the change as if Luke is unsure if he should continue. With a yell of pain, he finishes transforming and falls to his knees while holding his reopened wound. The gash across his gut is not as deep as it once was, but it is enough to make Delvin hurry to his side. The half-elf shivers and hisses as he draws out one of the abilities of the snake fiend spirit that dwells within him. It is a challenge to work with the primal beast, but he manages to bring out its power to stop a wound from bleeding. He knows it will not last long, so he removes his shirt and turns it into fresh bandages.

  “A spirit channeler?” Mab asks while reaching down to get a little of Luke’s blood on her finger. The small taste makes the vampire shake her head from the collision of flavors. “That’s definitely a spirit channeler and not a very good one. You shouldn’t be accessing all of those creatures at once. That’s how chimeras are created. Wait a second. Twin sabers, half-elf, knows Delvin, and seems to be doing something stupid. I’m going to guess that this is Luke Callindor. Heard a few stories about him when I was researching you, Cunningham.”

  “Stephen took Nyx about a week ago,” the forest tracker finally says, grunting at the pain in his stomach. A few feathers sprout from his neck as the griffin tries to take over. “We were attacked in Roeth and he nearly killed us. The others are still healing in Darkmill, but they’re going after Stephen as soon as they can. I told them I’d find you and meet with them. Isaiah is the one doing the tracking, so it shouldn’t be long before we find Nyx. I can even find that lizard if you want to get there early.”