Unable to talk without his lower jaw, the vampire grunts and spits while lifting the injured human by the head. His massive hand presses into her stomach and he prepares to tear her in half to get at her blood. Not wanting to lose a drop, the greedy monster extends his dry tongue and carefully moves to suspend the girl upside down over his face. A sharp pain runs up his arm as Samara stabs the limb that is gripping her gut. The clawed hand rips across her belly and she falls onto the vampire. Sliding onto his back, she puts her sword against her enemy’s throat and grabs the end of the blade with her other hand. She pulls the weapon through the monster’s neck, his head and a few of her fingers falling into the trampled grass. Samara lets the towering corpse fall forward and take her to the ground where she remains gasping for air.
“I’m surprised you got one,” Mab says, the cloaked woman diving over the girl. Her clawed hand drives into the chest of an invisible vampire to grab the heart and she crushes it while slicing her enemy’s head off. “Most of the priests have been taken out, so I’m sorry to say you’re going to die. Have any messages that you want me to deliver?”
“Please make me a Dawn Fang,” Samara gasps as she fights to remain conscious. A trembling hand reaches out for the vague form of the Dark Mistress, but a strong grip presses it to her bleeding stomach. “I don’t want to die. I came out here to prove I could fight for others, so change me into one of your kind.”
Even with the battle raging around her, Mab takes a seat next to the girl and covers them in her cloak. “I still don’t think you would be a worthy vampire. You’ve impressed me every now and then, but it’s not enough to change my mind. This foolishness doesn’t help, child. With no training and a sword you can barely swing, you marched against vampires when you could have stayed behind to help prepare for the return of the injured. I know your heart was in the right place, but your head wasn’t and that’s what I care about.”
“You won’t even give a dying girl her last wish,” Samara gasps, forcing herself to sit up. A sharp pain strikes her sides and she falls back, blood leaking out of the corner of her mouth. “I can’t believe you would be so cold and evil. Just make me a Dawn Fang and you’ll be saving my life.”
“Only to kill you again when you make a mistake,” Mab replies, lashing out to her right. A charging human impales his leg on her claws and she effortlessly flings him away. “In my world, you rarely get second chances. Actions born from short-sightedness and greed will force me to destroy you. Trust me when I say that it’s better to die a human than be executed as a Dawn Fang. My people don’t let their criminals perish in comfort.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“Nobody ever wants that.”
“All I wanted was to survive.”
“Stop talking and just let go. No sense in suffering.”
“Did I help anybody?”
Mab briefly stands to see if any mortals are nearby, crouching again when she is sure nobody is paying attention to her. “Killing that Dawn Fang means you saved whoever he would have eaten. I know it’s a small comfort, but it’s something. Although, there is one thing you can do to help me. It’ll hurt and you won’t live through it. Hate to say it this way, but it beats letting you go to waste. Can I have your heart?”
“But I’m not dead,” Samara says, her eyes glassy and unable to see anything. “I don’t even feel the pain anymore, so I’m getting better.”
“I need to take it while you’re alive,” the Dark Mistress replies as she gets frustrated with the mortal. With her claws out, she places her hand over the girl’s chest and cuts a hole in the armor. “It’s something only the really old vampires can do and it’s rather barbaric. I put your beating heart in my chest and adopt it as my own, which will bring me back to full strength. This isn’t an offer that I make lightly because it’s disgusting and has some aftereffects. Look, kid, you want to help in this battle then this is your only way.”
“If you won’t help me then I won’t help you,” the girl responds with a laugh. “How do you like being denied?”
“I was only asking to be nice.”
Covering Samara’s mouth, Mab plunges her hand into the dying girl’s chest and yanks out her heart. Reaching under her shirt, the vampire tears through her ribcage and shoves the pulsing organ into her body. She shudders at the sensation of arteries and veins connecting and fresh blood running beneath her skin. A layer of glistening sweat appears on her body as it heats up from assimilating the heart. It takes another minute for her to be sure the organ has been accepted and will not burst from her chest in the sunlight. Glancing down at the dead girl, Mab takes off her cloak and wraps it around the bloody form.
“I know you refused, but thanks for the help, kid,” the Dark Mistress whispers, pushing the corpse into its own shadow. A roar erupts from the abyss, but stops when the vampire hisses in a snarling language. “I’ll bury you some place nice. First, I have to destroy an army of brats that never should have been made.”
Mab cracks her knuckles and calmly spins on her toes, an ancient love of battle stirring in her revived veins. Choosing the direction with the most amount of Dawn Fangs, the brown-haired woman sprints back into the fray. Within minutes, the younger vampires are terrified and desperately fighting to survive against one of their elders.
*****
Teka ducks the incoming shield and takes a deep breath to unleash a scream that will shatter Delvin’s eardrums. Before she can attack, the warrior leaps forward and puts his forearm against her face. His enchanted shield comes hurtling back to bash the vampire in the skull and stick her head between it and her enemy’s arm. The moment she tries to release her screech, the champion slams her face into the ground and causes the attack to harmlessly dent the earth. Deflecting two of Riak’s blades, Delvin lifts Teka to take Yeldar’s tongue and Elrin’s fist to her back. She slips out of the vise-like grip of the shield, giving the mortal swordsman the chance to slash at her neck. He hesitates when her face turns into that of Nyx, which opens him to a barrage of strikes from the other vampires. Focusing on defense and waiting for an opening, he is barely able to block and dodge. With a quick slice, he lops off one of Riak’s hands and shield bashes Yeldar’s tongue against Elrin’s skin. All five of the combatants are stunned or injured, so they move away and patiently wait for one of the sides to buckle.
“Sounds like your army is having trouble,” Delvin taunts, wincing from a burning cut in his leg. “Normally, I’d give you a chance to surrender or retreat. I get the feeling that isn’t an option and I’m fine with that. Only a matter of time before I behead one of you and the others can’t come to the rescue.”
Teka rubs at her neck, her finger running along the faint pink mark of her previous beheading. “You already got me three times and it didn’t do you any good. Even if you hit me again and delayed the others for a second, my heart plates mean you can’t stab me in the chest or back. There’s no chance of you hitting a killing blow on any of us.”
“What about coming in from the side?” Delvin asks before he can stop himself. Only Elrin laughs, which is stopped when his wife glares at him. “As I said, you can’t beat me. I’ve been trained by Mab and she told me all of your weaknesses. Strength and magical abilities can’t help you if your enemy is smart and prepared.
“Very cocky for a wounded mortal,” Yeldar says as he flexes his aching tongue that now has an odd bend when it stretches. With a growl, the vampire darts forward and jumps back when Delvin’s blade appears an inch from his eye. “You’ve gotten a lot faster since our last fight. No . . . more precise and reactive. Conserving your strength while whittling us down with counterattacks. You’ve always been a conniving bastard. That’s why you kept getting us in trouble. I’m going to enjoy taking your head.”
“I was the bastard?” asks the warrior in surprise. With a sudden lunge, he drives the hilt of his sword into the Dawn Fang’s mouth and cracks both of the man’s fangs. “You four tormented me every day since we were five. All beca
use I was smaller, quieter, smarter, and the gods only know what else you hated about me. Then you abandoned me on a floating chunk of ice. I could have died and you think you’re the victims? Any scrap of sympathy I had for you idiots is long gone. I’m ending this and moving on with my life because I’ve got more important monsters to slay. Ones that are actual threats.”
“If you’re trying to scare or enrage us then you’re doing a horrible job,” Riak sneers while reattaching his hand. He roars when Delvin comes in low and slices the entire arm off. “Scream his head off, Teka. I don’t care if you hit the rest of us. Kill him!”
The female vampire leaps onto her metallic husband, who keeps Delvin away with wide swings of his arms. Her shriek can be seen as it rockets from her mouth and tears at the ground in front of Elrin’s feet. The champion runs backwards and dives to the side of the condensed sound, which knocks the metal crate into the hill. All of the Dawn Fangs turn to the container to see if its lock is broken, giving Delvin a chance to attack. He rushes Yeldar, but the grinning vampire ducks and delivers a booming elbow to his enemy’s chest. A burst of agony rips through the warrior’s body and he falls to his knees as a pair of wights appear to flank him. Icy venom drips from their clawed hands, which hit Delvin in the back and sides. Rolling away from the monsters, he feels a faint numbness from the toxin, but he effortlessly adapts to the stiffness of his joints. Before the vampires can attack, he slices the rag-wearing undead in half and flicks a glob of frozen spittle into Yeldar’s face.
“Nothing you four can throw at me will put me down,” Delvin swears, enjoying the flicker of fear in his enemies’ eyes. When they share a cruel smile, he feels his confidence stumble and prays the sudden needle of doubt is not shown on his face. “Come at me, cowards. Only a matter of time before I free the Osprey Tribe and avenge my friends. So stop stalling and fight me like you mean it.”
“Maybe we should release our secret weapon,” Yeldar says while walking to the crate. A quick twist of his head wraps his tongue around Delvin’s swinging blade and he shoves the warrior back. “It’s a little unpredictable, which is why we have it locked up. Still, this should make things interesting. Feel free to keep acting like you’re going to win though. In a minute, the only thing you’ll be doing is crying at our feet.”
“This is going to be fun,” Teka whispers, licking her lips and stroking Elrin’s cheek.
Instead of unlocking the crate, Yeldar rips the top off and dumps out a barely clothed figure who had been tightly packed into the container. With the cracking of bones and popping of joints, the growling vampire unfurls and stands at his full height. Tavris’s strawberry blonde hair shimmers even though it is heavily knotted and his skin is paler than when he was human. Not having eaten in days, his fangs are extended and he is gulping for air as if drowning. The sun makes his ruby-like eyes squint, so it takes him a while to notice Delvin. Realizing what he might be charmed to do, Tavris immediately swings a punch at Teka, who catches his arm and flips him over her shoulder. Yeldar wraps his tongue around the confused Dawn Fang’s neck and hoists him to his feet.
“Your friend is very feisty and his will is incredible even for our kind,” Riak says since their leader cannot talk with his tongue out. The four-armed vampire places a blade against Tavris’s throat, but the weapon is batted away with enough force to jam it into the nearby hill. “We changed him after you escaped because we thought he would be able to hunt you down. The man refused and has been bucking our influence ever since. Even after we fed his heart to Elrin, he continues to fight against every type of control we throw at him. Teka has had the best luck and her powers only work for a few minutes on him. Watch this, Cunningham.”
Riak’s eyes turn white as he tries to terrify the transformed mercenary, an aura of intimidation flowing across the ground. With a feral snarl, Tavris grabs the keen-edged tongue around his neck and wields Yeldar like a mace. The two Path Lords collide, but Riak is able to hold his ground by melding his feet to the earth. He turns off his power, which calms the enraged Dawn Fang, and approaches to replace his friend’s tongue with two of his blades. Tavris continues to glare and hiss at Riak, the threat of permanent death only making him angrier and more defiant.
“Let him go,” Delvin whispers as he grips his sword with enough force that his knuckles turn white. He tries to meet his old friend’s gaze, but a pang of guilt causes him to stare at his heavily scuffed boots. “Don’t make him suffer any more than he already has. I’m sure you want to force us to fight, but I’ll refuse because this is all my fault. Tavris and the others came here to help me and they were killed. My past cost my friends their lives, so I’m begging you to release him.”
“You’re not on your knees,” Teka points out with a whistle that sends a tremor through the champion’s body. Leaping over her friends, she delivers a punch that knocks the wind out of the mortal. “I can’t take you seriously if you don’t kneel. If you’re going to remain standing then I assume your friends didn’t really mean much to you.”
“Hit my friend again and I’ll feed you to your gluttonous husband,” Tavris interrupts, his voice full of menace. His legs twitch, but he refuses to move when Riak’s blades press against his throat. “Better lop my head off now. There’s no way I’m going to fight my friend even though he brought me here. Everyone makes mistakes and we share this one. I could have always told him to go suck on a troll’s foot. By the way, boss, sorry I didn’t let you know I was still alive. Things got rather busy after they changed me and I lost track of time. First round of drinks are on me after this little tussle.”
“As you can see, we can’t convince him to fight you,” Yeldar explains while massaging his jaw. He runs his hand through his white hair and revels in Delvin’s look of anguish. “One thing that always made me mad about you was that you never got upset. Even when crying, you were never loud and regained your control so damn quickly. I’ve wondered a lot about what could be done to shatter your calm exterior. After all, that’s what allows you to think on your feet and hold your own against us. I had hope for Tavris being one of my greatest children, but now he’s only a tool to hurt you. Remove his head and don’t be clean, Riak.”
Delvin only makes it a few steps before the four-armed swordsman slices off Tavris’s head and smacks it to the warrior. He picks up the body part and cradles it in his arms, the champion’s body suddenly feeling overheated and twitchy. As he glances at the fallen corpse that was once his friend, a flicker of white aura appears around his sword. The Dawn Fangs are too busy laughing and preparing to attack to notice the faint energy surge. So all four Path Lords freeze in terror when Delvin sprints forward and his blade erupts into a weapon of raw magic. Ducking under Yeldar’s tongue and sidestepping Elrin, the champion slices Teka across the stomach before she can attack with her voice. The vampire briefly screams in pain as her body turns grey and explodes into a shower of ash.
“I’m not playing with you anymore,” Delvin coldly says, placing Tavris’s head against the stump out of respect. “One cut is all I need on each of you.”
The warrior charges at Riak, who desperately tries to block the shining blade, his wrists and fingers coming dangerously close to being sliced. Knocked off-balance, he can see that the sword is about to strike his side until Elrin tackles Delvin. The metal vampire batters at the shield while the enchanted weapon clangs against his armored body. Every strike dissolves the thick hide, which swiftly repairs itself before the exposed flesh can be pierced. A desperate kick knocks Delvin to his knees, but the vampire’s crushing slam is blocked by the pulsing blade. The other Dawn Fangs charge in from the sides to behead the champion when someone grabs Elrin around the waist and hurls him through the small hill. Tavris cracks his neck and licks his fangs while hoisting his friend up by his shield arm.
“We took your heart!” Yeldar screams, the vampire frustrated that everything is going wrong. He summons several wights that surround his enemies, one of them immediately dissolved by Delvin’s ba
stard sword. “Then we took your head!”
“I had a few extra hearts,” Tavris casually states before punching the head off the nearest monster. He can see Elrin getting back up, so he leaps out of the circle of wights. “Me and the boys will handle the big guy, boss. You get the easy ones.”
“You never let me have any fun. What do you mean by you and the boys?”
Three ghostly hazes appear between Tavris and Delvin, each one solidifying into their deceased friends. The ghosts grin and draw their weapons before racing forward, their steps leaving phantasmal footprints on the matted grass. With an earth-shaking stomp, the metal vampire prepares for the warriors and roars as their blades strike at the flesh beneath his natural armor. When Elrin reaches for Pelo, Tavris tackles the heavy fighter and lifts the squealing Path Lord over his head. The ongoing battle pauses when they hear the mercenary slam his enemy into the ground and the hill crumbles to reveal Delvin’s fight. Nobody is sure if they should continue now that Elrin’s charm and Riak’s intimidation have abruptly snapped. The mortals watch as Tavris pounds on his enemy and his ghostly companions dart in for quick slashes. Only a few of the tribespeople notice that the other Dawn Fangs are slipping into the grass, the creatures’ instincts telling them that the battle is no longer going in their favor. By the time Tavris tears Elrin’s head off and shoves his arm into the stump to crush his enemy’s heart, there are only two terrified vampires left on the battlefield.
“You attack him,” Yeldar orders, backing away as Delvin finishes off the wights. “You have more swords than me. You stand a better chance.”
“I don’t have your range,” Riak snaps, moving to get behind his companion. “This was all your plan, so you fight him.”
“The leader shouldn’t have to do the dirty work.”
“Well you’re not the leader of anything now, so that rule doesn’t apply.”
“Attack Riak, Cunningham! He’s more dangerous!”
The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9) Page 37
