Blood Royal

by Will McDermott

  ‘Where are we?’ asked Valtin. His voice was raspy and hoarse, and the effort of talking made him cough, which brought on another spell of dry heaves.

  ‘High up,’ said Armand. ‘Very high up. Don’t fall. Not as high as dear old father, though. His fall will be much greater. Much greater indeed.’

  He’s gone completely insane, thought Valtin. I’m being held prisoner by an insane man who drinks blood.

  He decided to try again, anyway. ‘Why are we here?’ he asked.

  Armand laughed. It was not the laugh of a man enjoying a joke, but of a man on the edge, a man driven to the brink of hysteria by some horrible personal demons. ‘That is the question,’ he said, finally. ‘We’re here to serve. We’re here for the greater glory of House Helmawr, the unholy House of Helmawr!’

  ‘I mean,’ started Valtin again, his throat finally clear enough to speak more than just a few words. ‘Why are we here now? What are you going to do with me?’

  ‘Why, feed off your blood, of course, dear nephew,’ he said, a smile blooming on his face. ‘I have much more work to do, but your uncle, the other uncle, wants to stop me, so I need time. Time. Time to sleep. To rest. To fix my rig, which you broke. Such a bad boy you are, nephew. But you’ll be good inside me. Good noble blood. Better than that wretched Hive scum blood. Even the Goliaths have no strength in their blood… blood… blood…’

  He plopped onto the mesh floor and looked right through Valtin, as if the young Helmawr wasn’t even there. ‘Bad blood. That’s the problem you see,’ he continued, but he was now speaking to himself. Valtin was sure Armand didn’t even realise he was there anymore.

  ‘Tainted. Yes, tainted, that’s the word. All of House Helmawr. Tainted by evil. Tainted by all that we’ve done. Can’t get rid of the evil. New blood for old blood. New in, old out. Still tainted. Got the proof. Every evil deed. Every stain on the House from Hell. Ripped the proof right out of the chamber pot. So much evil. So many dead. So much ruined. All for the greater good.’

  He looked back at Valtin again. ‘That’s why we’re here. The greater good. But the taint won’t wash away. Can’t be cut out. Can’t be drained away. Goes much deeper. Right down to the soul. How do you cleanse the soul of a House? How do you cleanse the deeds of the past?’

  And then he was silent. Valtin stared at his uncle. His other uncle. Wild hair and dirt didn’t hide the square jaw and high cheeks; the marks of Helmawr nobility that Armand, Valtin, and Jerico all shared.

  Valtin wondered what it was that had finally driven him totally and murderously insane, what House secrets the wayward son had ripped from the chamberlain’s head. Then, as he lay there, he noticed that Armand had fallen asleep. Sitting not three metres away, Armand slept, holding his dagger in his lap, blood trickling down his chest and mixing with dirty sweat. A lone tear hung on his noble Helmawr chin.

  ‘This is where they fought,’ said Lysanne. ‘Kal’s friend and the vampire.’ She stood with one leg slightly bent, obviously not trusting her full weight on the injured ankle just yet.

  ‘You sure?’ asked Scabbs.

  ‘Do you call her a liar?’ accused Themis. She towered over the scabby bounty hunter, glaring at him.

  Scabbs shrunk back slightly. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I just… It was chaotic out here. I’m just, you know, making sure she remembers everything.’ He turned and started searching the ground. ‘Yeesh,’ he grumbled. ‘She’s as bad as Yolanda.’

  ‘I heard that.’

  Scabbs turned with a sheepish look on his face, but then tripped over Wotan. Both women began laughing. ‘You’re a big help,’ he said to Kal’s dog. ‘Why don’t you go bite her knee?’ He got up and started searching again.

  ‘What are we looking for?’ asked Lysanne.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ replied Scabbs. ‘Clues. Anything unusual that might help us figure out why the vampire kidnapped what’s-his-name.’

  ‘The nobleman used some sort of device on the vampire’s rig,’ said Lysanne. ‘Turned it off or something.’

  ‘That would have been good to know,’ said Scabbs. He stopped and scratched at his face as he stared at the young Wildcat. The sarcasm seemed to be lost on her. ‘What happened to it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I was scared.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Scabbs, softening a little. She wasn’t much older than a teenager after all. ‘I’m scared all the time.’ She smiled at him, and he almost tripped over Wotan again. ‘See if you can find that device. I’m sure Kal will want to see it.’

  ‘This is pointless,’ said Themis. She was standing over a fallen Wildcat. ‘We should be putting our companions to rest, not helping Kal Jerico bag his bounty.’

  Scabbs was examining a piece of black metal he found on the ground and only half-heard what Themis had said. ‘That’s fine,’ he said absently as he looked at the odd metal. ‘Have a good time.’

  Scabbs was fairly certain it was part of Armand’s Spyrer rig, but it almost looked like a large fish scale. It was rounded and bulged in the middle. Part of it was scorched and there was hole the size of a credit chip in the middle. He turned it over and found blood smeared on the inside.

  When he looked up again, Themis and Lysanne were pulling Wildcat bodies into the middle of the square. ‘What in the Hive are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Taking care of our sisters,’ said Lysanne. ‘Like you said we could.’

  ‘I did?’ Scabbs scratched his head, causing a cascade of dead skin to rain down on his shoulder. ‘When did I do that?’

  ‘Just now!’ yelled Themis. ‘Don’t you even listen to yourself?’

  ‘Fine!’ said Scabbs. ‘Whatever. Wotan and I will search the square.’ He moved around toward the fan, looking for any more clues as to where Armand might have gone. He found Valtin’s power maul just below the ventilation shafts. It was dead. He also found another body.

  ‘Hey!’ he called out. ‘I found another Wildca–’ He looked again. The body was of a male; Van Saar by the look of the clothes and hair. ‘Never mind,’ he called back. ‘Now, what is this all about?’ he wondered. He checked the pockets for loose credits and palmed the ganger’s weapon, a beat-up laspistol. ‘Hmmph. Guess I can leave it here,’ he said. ‘Let Kal sort it out later.’

  ‘Hey!’ called Lysanne.

  Scabbs looked up. There was a big bonfire in the middle of the square. Black smoke rolled up from the pile of bodies. Luckily for Scabbs, he was underneath the fan and the smell was being blown away from him. Lysanne was running toward him.

  ‘I found the gadget,’ she said as she came up to him. ‘Valtin’s gadget. I found it. I found it.’ Lysanne threw her arms around Scabbs and hugged him.

  The stunned bounty hunter had no idea at all how to respond. ‘Thanks,’ was all he could think to say.

  ‘Derindi!’ screamed a voice. ‘Answer me, you worthless pile of hive scum!’

  He heard the voice, but it sounded like it was very far away, as if it was part of a dream. The voice seemed to echo in his head. Perhaps it was a dream.

  ‘Derindi!’ screamed the voice again. ‘Answer me now or the last thing you see in this world will be Seek and Destroy!’

  Well, that was an odd thing to say. It must have been part of his dream. He was the sultan of a desert planet; a hot, dry, sandy desert planet and he was on a pilgrimage. This must have been the voice of his god telling him to seek and destroy the lord’s enemies.

  Seek and Destroy. Very odd. But also somewhat familiar. He had heard those words somewhere recently. Where had he heard those names? Names? They were names. Seek and Destroy – the twins who worked for Nemo! Nemo. The voice was Nemo. Oh crap!

  Derindi awoke with a start, hearing only the last part of Nemo’s next message in his ear. ‘…one last chance. I can find you wherever you hide, you little weasel.’

  He tried to speak but his mouth was bone dry and full of dust. All that came out was a raspy wheeze. Derindi sat up. He was covered in hive dust
and itched all over, and something seemed to be crawling up his leg inside his pants. He tried to ignore the itch and the dread of what might be inside his clothes and concentrate on talking. He spat out as much dust as he could and then swallowed the rest in an effort to get some saliva moving.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m here. Yes. Don’t hurt me. I’m here. Yes. What do you need?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Nemo. ‘Just shut up already and report. What have you been doing?’

  Derindi wasn’t sure which order he should follow. He took a guess and decided to keep talking. ‘I, uh, I was knocked out during a battle with the Wildcats, sir.’ He started. He wasn’t sure how much of the truth he should really tell. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I, um, lost Scabbs and Yolanda.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Nemo in his ear. ‘I know. They are in the Breath of Fresh Air with Jerico and the Wildcats. Get over there and don’t let them out of your sight again. Bring me the item they are all after and you will be a very rich man.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ said Derindi. ‘Thank you, sir. Right away. Thank yo–’ The creepy crawly reached his crotch and bit down hard.

  ‘Derindi!’

  ‘Yes sir?’ he squeaked, as he slapped at the bug in his pants.

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  Later, after cleaning most of the dust and bugs out of his clothes, Derindi started walking toward the nearest dome entrance. It wasn’t far, though he grumbled silently to himself the entire way there, staring at the white dust as he kicked it with every step. He happened to look up just as he reached the final rise in the dunes and saw several people standing near the entrance.

  One of them looked familiar. Tall, leggy, spiked hair waving above her forehead and a katana sheathed at her waist. Yolanda. She was staring up into the struts above the Wastes. Derindi pulled out his pict camera and zoomed in. There were two people up there on grapnel lines, cutting something big out of some webbing.

  ‘Nemo, are you getting this?’ he asked so quietly he thought the transmitter might not pick it up.

  ‘Yes, Derindi,’ came the instant reply. ‘Good work. Those are Helmawr’s Spyrers. They’re retrieving their rigs. Follow them and Yolanda.’

  It didn’t take the Spyrers long to get the rigs down. There were four separate rigs. The Spyrers donned two of them and looked like they planned to carry the other two. Yolanda argued with them for a few minutes, pulling her katana half way out of its sheath at one point. Finally, the female Spryer tossed her hands in the air and handed one of the spares to Yolanda. The male Spyrer carried the other and all three re-entered the dome.

  Derindi ran the rest of the way to the entrance. He stuck his head in to make sure they had moved on, and then slipped inside and ran down the access tunnel to catch up.

  Yolanda was amazed at how comfortable she felt in the Spyrer rig. She had expected to feel claustrophobic and clumsy in the metal suit, but it felt no more binding than a tight set of clothes, which she was quite used to wearing. The rig’s hydraulics responded to her muscle commands as well as, if not better than, her own arms and legs.

  Ordinarily, no mere Hiver could wear a Spyrer rig. Each was carefully crafted to match its wearer’s own size and requirements, and its operation was based on a variety of control systems so sensitive that only its original occupant could stand any chance of figuring them out. Still, Yolanda was no mere Hiver. She had once been a Catallus, not that she considered herself such anymore. Nonetheless, she had in her youth been fitted for a Spyrer herself and, more importantly, had received the basic subcutaneous grafts. Perhaps it was this preparation that now paid off unexpectedly.

  By the time they returned to the square, Scabbs and the Wildcats had gone back inside the Fresh Air to show Kal and their leaders what they had found. Cyklus dropped Jonas’s rig off and the three of them went back out to see if they could follow Armand’s trail.

  Yolanda and Leoni wore identical rigs. She had called it a Malcadon rig. Apparently, twin bulbs on each wrist could shoot out iron-hard and very sticky webbing. Armour plates and spines protected the web-producing hardware on her back. The pistons and hydraulics in the arms and legs gave her excellent mobility.

  She and Leoni had no trouble at all climbing up to the fan housing. Cyklus was able to lumber his way up to the fan as well, but it was obvious his rig was made for power and defence, not mobility. There was no way he’d be able to scale the vertical ventilation shaft, which was where Armand had taken Valtin.

  ‘I’ll stay here and guard you,’ he said. The missile launchers that encircled his wrists spun, bringing a new missile into firing position on each arm.

  ‘Impressive,’ said Yolanda. ‘Very cool!’ She looked at Leoni. ‘How do I fire my web spinners?’

  ‘No way,’ said Leoni. ‘I showed you how to climb and jump. That’s all you’ll need for this excursion. No weapons. I’ll spin us some rope for climbing. You just follow me, and try not to fall.’

  Yolanda watched as Leoni shot the webs high up onto the shaft. She just seemed to point her hands and the webs came out, but there was something odd about how she held her fingers. Must be a switch or sensor on the palm, thought Yolanda. She decided to experiment later while Leoni wasn’t watching.

  As the web hardened, it started to look like steel cable. Leoni grabbed hold of it with both gloved hands, braced herself against the ventilation shaft and climbed the web rope. She scooted her legs up the metal ductwork as she pulled her body up the rope. It almost looked like she was walking up the side of the shaft.

  Yolanda let her get a fair way up before grabbing the rope. She didn’t want to let the Spyrer get out of sight. But she did want the rope to stop swaying. And she wanted at least a little warning should Leoni lose her grip and plummet.

  It took them several minutes to scale the entire shaft. It went quite a way up and Leoni had to shoot new strands several times during their ascent. They eventually reached a catwalk attached to the roof of the dome. When Yolanda pulled herself up over the lip she could see Leoni bending over some dark object off to the side. It was a body; Van Saar by the look of it, and as white as the dust in the Wastes.

  Leoni looked up. ‘What in the Hive happened to him?’

  ‘Armand,’ said Yolanda. She recognised the pale colouring and sunken cheeks. ‘Check his neck. Do you see puncture marks?’

  Leoni pulled the dead ganger’s collar down, showing two red holes in his neck. ‘What the–? He really is a vampire?’

  ‘He drains the blood of his victims,’ said Yolanda, matter-of-factly. ‘We don’t know what he does with it, but I doubt he’s filling a pool.’

  ‘Well, he went this way from the ventilation shaft once today,’ said Leoni. ‘It’s a good bet he followed the same path with cousin Valtin.’

  They trotted down the catwalk for some distance until they found another body. ‘Van Saar again,’ said Yolanda. ‘He’s been feeding more and more each day. I doubt Valtin has much time left.’

  They ran on, but found no more bodies, and the catwalk ended not too far past the second one. They backtracked to the second body, checking above, below and to the sides of the catwalk as they went. Just before they got back to the body, Yolanda noticed something familiar along the ceiling some way out from the catwalk. All of the pipes, conduits and ductwork in the area converged on one spot, which from her vantage point just looked like a large dark spot on the ceiling.

  ‘Is there a torch on this rig anywhere?’ asked Yolanda. She leaned out a little to get a better look.

  ‘No,’ replied Leoni. ‘But I’ve got photo contacts. What do you see?’

  ‘Check out that dark spot right there,’ said Yolanda, pointing at the convergence point. ‘What is it?’

  Leoni followed Yolanda’s finger out toward the ceiling. ‘It’s an access shaft, I think,’ she said. ‘Must angle back toward us. I can’t actually see into it, but all the pipes turn and run into the opening.’

  ‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ said Yolanda. �
��Armand’s gone. He used one of those shafts to escape from Glory Hole. He could be anywhere in the Hive by now.’

  Kal sat at the table and thought, with a bottle of Squatz’s House Special in one hand and his lasgun in the other. He spun the weapon idly as he considered the evidence that had been brought in. Bodies of Van Saar (from a battle Squatz had witnessed earlier), information about two utility access tunnels Armand had used for his escapes, reports of attacks up and down the Hive; nearly two dozen in just a few days in many different domes. He was like a ghost, or a vampire with bat wings, able to fly off into the night without trace.

  It all connected somehow, but there was still a piece missing from the puzzle. What wasn’t he seeing? Where was the missing piece? Where had Armand taken Valtin?

  Kal looked at the items Scabbs and the Wildcats had brought in. They were arrayed on the table in front of him. There was a broken and bloody piece of Armand’s armour, Valtin’s power maul, which was completely drained of power, and the device his nephew had used to incapacitate the Spyrer rig, which now lay in several pieces.

  An argument had broken out by the bar. Again.

  ‘He’s dead already,’ said Leoni. ‘We just regroup and wait for the next set of bodies to show up.’

  ‘Typical noble reaction to Hiver deaths,’ spat Vicksen. ‘Follow the trail of dead gangers to your precious brother.’

  ‘Yeah, and you can kill a few yourself along the way, just for sport,’ added Themis.

  ‘We’re just saving you the trouble of killing each other,’ said Cyklus. He ducked as a bottle whipped past his head. A second one smashed on the front of his rig.

  ‘Look,’ said Jonas, stepping in between Cyklus and the Wildcats. ‘It’s our cousin he’s taken hostage.’

  ‘But it’s our family lying dead in the square at his – and your – hands,’ Vicksen retorted. She stood inches from Jonas, her blue hair waving above her head as she stared down the Spyrer leader.

  ‘You’d better do something, Jerico,’ said Lysanne.