by Hugo Huesca
Lavy shook her head. “It won’t slow him down that much, I think, but it’s better than nothing.”
Before Brett could go on, Zachary stepped in and cut him off with a wave. “Ah, I’m best equipped to explain the next problem we solved. You see, Lord Edward, my blessings and the circle will force the vampire to remain around his coffin—as well as nullify most of his powers—but there was still one we had to deal with. Some vampires can enthrall with a gaze, not unlike a more powerful version of the minor order spell, and in most bardic tales about them they’re able to use said power to force a captor to break the circle or their bindings.”
“I’m not sure if Oldbloods are actually the ones with that power,” Lavy said. “It gets confusing, and sometimes the… research tomes seem to forget which type the protagonist is and mix their powers and weaknesses around. But Brett’s right, if they have it: they like to use their hypnosis to enthrall the attractive young priestess guarding the circle… but as it turns out, vampiric Mind magic doesn’t affect their destined soulmates…” Lavy trailed off, her cheeks turning pink. “I mean, those with a very strong Spirit.”
Alder narrowed his eyes. “I’d love to have a look at those research tomes of yours, Lavy.”
“Alas, they were all lost forever in one of Kael’s dungeons,” the Witch quickly blurted out.
“Right.”
Zachary took a white handkerchief from his tunic and cleaned a bit of sweat from his scalp. “To combat their gaze, we fashioned this.” He rummaged through his pockets and brought out a circular piece of glass tied to a rough wooden handle. The glass’ surface seemed covered in dust and Ed realized it was silver. “Anyone interrogating the creature is to hold this lens at face-level. The glass is blessed and doused in holy water for good measure. It should… in theory… protect the wearer from the hypnotic gaze.”
Kes stepped forward, staring at the lens with critical eye. “Okay, I admit I’m not the best versed in magical matters… but how, exactly, is a bit of glass supposed to stop someone from being hypnotized?”
Everyone turned to stare at Lavy.
“Oh.” She tossed her hair back, looking for a second like a fawn staring in wonder at the quickly growing shadow of a gryphon on the surrounding grass. “Well, I approved it because it makes sense—in theory. Almost all kinds of offensive magic need to establish a connection between the caster and his target, after all. In other words, to pierce someone with an ice bolt you need to aim and actually hit them with the damn thing, you can’t simply have the wounds appear on their body—enough spellcasters tried to get away with that in the good old days and were instantly gobbled up by Objectivity.” She raised her eyebrow a fraction of an inch at Ed in a gesture that he could only interpret as so don’t even think of it. “Gaze attacks—and perhaps even Ed’s Evil Eye if you really want me to get theoretical—must have a way of creating that connection, even if we cannot see it. Like… some sort of invisible ray.”
“That… sounds quite plausible, actually,” Ed said.
For someone who was mostly self-taught, Lavy was capable of some impressive academic feats. She had learned her raise specter spell on her own, for example, just by stubbornly throwing herself at the problem until it gave in and spilled its secrets. It was interesting, though, seeing her doubt herself when speaking about something she was quite talented at, when she was so confident at pretty much everything else.
She’s probably knows enough to realize how much information she’s missing, Ed thought.
“That’s how Numerios defeated Lord Khalfair,” Alder said. “He held a magical mirror against Khalfair’s gaze—the Dungeon Lord was immune to his own magic, but his minions weren’t.”
Ed nodded. Alder’s example was anecdotal, but the Dungeon Lord was sure they could test Lavy’s hypothesis by playing with mirrors in her laboratory. “You know what? I think we’ve just gotten a small Magical Research quest here,” he said aloud.
“Oh, I love those,” Lavy said, clapping with delight.
With an effort of will and a flash of Evil Eye, Ed gave Lavy her own personal quest.
Lavy’s eyes glinted with greed at the rewards. She was in the process of showing Alder the screen when Kes stepped hard on the floor to get everyone’s attention.
“Sorry to interrupt your very interesting discussion about ways to goad the Objectivity into destroying you,” she said, “but the sun is setting, and you’re having this chat right in front of a vampire’s coffin.”
Alder winced. “Right. We got a bit carried away,” the Bard said.
Ed turned to Zachary and Brett, who waited next to the silent kaftar guards at a safe distance from the coffin. “Thank you for your help. You both did very well.”
Zachary bowed, and then raised a surprised eyebrow as he read something in his character sheet. “Will you look at that,” he said. “We were part of a side-quest for the Haunt’s Raid.”
“Twenty experience points,” Brett boasted. “Not bad for a day’s work.”
When the two left the chamber, they looked very pleased with themselves.
Once Zachary and Brett had closed the door behind them, Kes strolled to the Monster Hunters, her back straight and tense like a steel bar.
“Have everyone leave the chapel,” she told them, “and have a drone bar it from outside. Return here when you’re done, but first make the announcement: The Haunt is now on violet alert. All alarm spells and traps are now activated. All our citizens must remain in the company of at least another citizen and within screaming distance of a guard patrol. Until I give the all-clear, anyone who forgets the password when asked for it by a guard captain is to be detained for their own safety and put under watch until Master Lavina or Lord Edward can confirm their identity. Anyone not a guard captain asking for the password is to be detained and watched. A guard captain not asking for the password using the specific wording we rehearsed is to be detained and watched.” Her instructions kept droning on and on until even Ed lost track of Kes’ paranoid security measures.
The kaftar listened with perfect discipline. “Yes, Marshal,” they said once she was done. They saluted her by crossing an arm to their chest, then turned and saluted Ed the same way before leaving the room.
“Satisfied?” Ed asked.
“Not by a long shot, but I cannot burden the Haunt with anything further until they’re better trained,” the Marshal said. “Better that they pay attention to the basics than mangle proper security measures.”
“Basic?” Alder asked. “You call that basic? You didn’t even tell us the passwords. If Ed steps out of this chamber, I think he would be detained and watched!”
“Well, of course I would be,” Ed said. “Violet alert means there is risk of subversion, sabotage, impersonation, and or infiltration. It’s designed to deal, as a worst-case scenario, with a shape-changer loose inside the dungeon. If I were to step out of this room before the all-clear signal is given, it could mean I’m being impersonated or enthralled.”
“Ah, Alita’s tits, you’re encouraging her!” Alder exclaimed. Then, he glanced nervously at the floor. “I mean, by Oynnes’ bountiful grace…” he mumbled.
“Of course I encourage her,” Ed said, trying to repress his grin. “That’s her job, Alder.”
“But… If someone is controlling you, couldn’t he have you give the all-clear, anyway?” Alder asked.
“Indeed,” Kes said. “That’s why no one who knows the all-clear signal can handle the prisoner directly. We’ll leave the room and let someone else who doesn’t know the signal take over. Normally, a trained professional would do it, but we don’t have one, so we had to improvise.”
“But you never told me the signal!” Alder exclaimed. Then he winced as realization settled in. “Oh, no.”
“Sorry, man,” Ed told him. “I need to ask the vampire some questions about the Heroes, so… I may need to hang on inside your mind for a bit while Kes guards my body in the chapel. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you in full cont
rol. I’ll only be listening and telling you what questions to ask. Think of it as your own personal adviser hanging out inside your head.” Back on Earth, people paid good money for that kind of remote support.
Alder had the kind of face that couldn’t hide his true emotions unless he was actively playing a part. He glanced down, bit his lip, fidgeted with his hands, and said, “No way. No way in hell I’ll be vampire bait. There’s nothing you can to do convince me, so just forget about it.”
“I just want to make it officially known that this sets a bad precedent for Bards everywhere,” Alder said quietly. He stood alone in the middle of the chamber, only a few feet away from the coffin and the magical circle that was the only thing protecting him from the creature hidden inside. “What we’re supposed to do is watch from afar, preserving events for posterity. Not as a juicy vampire midnight snack.”
Ed’s voice came straight from inside Alder’s head. You don’t care about impersonating me with the Thieves Guild.
“That’s different,” Alder said. Speaking to Ed felt vaguely like speaking to himself, in an entirely concerning way. “I can use that to flirt with all the sexy, leather-clad Thieves of the Guild, which is a sacred Bardic duty. A hard job, often dangerous, that I must uphold nevertheless.”
Ed’s amusement flashed down Alder’s body much like it had been his own, mingling with Alder’s wounded pride. In fact, if they weren’t careful, thoughts and emotions could mix, making it hard to figure out where it had come from. Alder thought of it like being in a very cramped sauna back-to-back with another man, both trying their best to keep their privacy to themselves.
It’s not so bad, the Dungeon Lord told him. If your mind is a house, I’m in the basement right now, looking out through a window. As long as I don’t pry inside a drawer or a broom closet, I won’t stumble across your private diary or anything like that.
“That’s actually good to know,” Alder said.
Of course, there was no way for me not to see that garden filled with nude statues of Heorghe’s daughters. I wonder what he’d have to say about it.
“Ah, go on, make fun of the poor Bard,” Alder said, frowning. Then he raised an eyebrow. “There isn’t… You wouldn’t tell Heorghe, anyway, would you?” He chuckled aloud because Ed was chuckling in the basement. Alder wondered how long it would take to go insane if they kept going like this.
He distractedly caressed the silver bits of his new shiny necklace. The smell of garlic rose to his nostrils. He wasn’t unarmed—quite the opposite, in fact. He carried his sword, his flute, a bag with Lavy’s runes, and a pair of blessed silver-tipped stakes that the kaftar had given him. And Kes was in the next room, with a cadre of Monster Hunters ready to spring into action should anything happen.
Of course, a vampire could rip his throat out before anyone had time to react at all.
Don’t think about that! he chided himself. “How much longer do we have to wait?” he asked aloud. Technically, he could just think at Ed and it would be faster, but Alder felt more comfortable this way.
Not much longer. It’s dark outside. If our vampire wasn’t destroyed when we damaged the coffin, we should meet him soon.
And as if the creature had heard Ed’s thoughts, the light of all the magical torches in the room dimmed. A rush of cold air, almost freezing, seeped through Alder’s clothing. It reminded him of Nicolai’s wraith. He shivered, but not because of the cold.
A hollow knock came from inside the coffin; and the heavy wooden lid began to creak open.
“Here we go,” Alder said with a small voice. Along with his fear came a rush of furious clarity. It was easy for Alder to tell that he wasn’t the source of this sensation. His fear screamed at him to run away as fast as possible from the monster. Ed’s instincts, on the other hand, clamored like the clarion’s call for the pointed sword at Alder’s side, in case he needed to tear the vampire’s throat before it had the chance to attack.
So this is what it feels like to be a Dungeon Lord, Alder mused. Even when in danger, a Dungeon Lord was a predator. Never prey.
The vampire probably felt the same way.
Focus, Ed thought at him. It’s coming. Alder reached for his sword and slid an inch of steel out of the scabbard.
Another crack came from the lid’s iron hinges, and the slab rose an inch away from the coffin. A dirty mist flowed out of the dark interior and poured into the stone floor and up onto the chamber like a spectral waterfall. Slowly, the lid rose another inch.
Alder had the strange sensation that the creature was having a hard time dealing with the lid’s weight. But that was impossible. Lavy had been very clear that Nightshades were inhumanly strong. And besides, why would a vampire sleep in a coffin it could barely get out of?
More likely, the undead monster was toying with him—lulling him into a false sense of security, perhaps. He drew his sword another inch, and noted that the mist remained contained inside the limits of the magical circle. That, at least, was encouraging.
An air of humidity and old dust fought for dominance with the smell of garlic in Alder’s nostrils. A humanoid silhouette half-emerged and half-materialized from inside the coffin, obscured by the mist, as an invisible current siphoned the mist into the coffin, as if swallowed by a gigantic lung.
Alder raised the lens that Zachary had fashioned and held it right in front of him. He kept his gaze focused on the slightly distorted vision of the glass.
“Ah, is it you, Jiraz?” asked a woman’s raspy voice. “I’m not going to lie, darling, I thought we were goners this time. May Murmur damn the Militant Church!” There was a sharp movement from inside the mist, like a head turning sharply. “Wait… You are not Jiraz.”
Long, curly hair flowed in the nonexistent breeze, golden like a sunshine but without its warmth. Alder caught glimpses of gray, wax-like skin pulled tight over sharp bones, and of a black funeral dress that could’ve been worn by a Lotian noble a hundred years ago, but was now ragged and with sleeves half-eaten by moths. A black sash hugged a slender waist, and a small, elegant hat full with flowery laces covered the golden curls that framed the scowling face of the corpse.
“Who dares breach the sanctity of my tomb?” the vampire asked, still half-hidden by the mist. “Know that you’ve forsaken your blood for this transgression, mortal!” Her voice was raspy, faint, and dreadful, like a whisper in a graveyard.
Something about the challenge and threat in her voice awoke an instinctive fury inside Ed that burned in Alder’s mind like the explosion of a fireball, as if his bones and his veins were white hot with violent, Dark magical power, and before the Bard could even realize what was going on inside his body, he was standing as tall as he could, his back straight like an iron rod and lips curled in a regal scowl.
“I dare,” he exclaimed, Ed speaking through him with a Dungeon Lord’s authority. Green heat shone out of Alder’s eyes for an instant, showering the vampire in light and shadow.
The creature growled like a beast and stepped back, her arms spread in an animalistic fashion to protect the coffin behind her. “Dungeon Lord!” Her fangs gleamed under the afterglow of the Evil Eye, pearly white and sharp like needles.
Alder was acutely aware that he was caught between two powerful beings of the Dark squaring up—recognizing and sizing each other up all at once, like a pair of bucks crossing antlers in Elaitra’s forests, or two Bards exchanging drunken quips in a tavern.
Except that these two were much more dangerous than a drunken Bard or a horny deer. Alder wondered if it was a good moment to cast nimble feet and make himself scarce. And then the mist cleared, and a fact that had been nagging at a small part of his brain was now in full display, and the part of his brain that was too distracted by fear couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Uh, Ed thought, confusion smacking the teeth out of his anger as he saw through Alder’s eyes.
“Uh,” Alder agreed. He blinked and scratched his chin. “Ain’t that something,” he said.
The
vampire frowned with indignation, as if she couldn’t believe that Alder and Ed had dared break the Dark tension between them. “What’s the matter?” she asked in her archaic wording. Then her frown deepened. Her red eyes traveled down Alder’s body, all the way to his feet, and then upwards, all the way up into his eyes. She had to throw her head back for that. A look of dismay replaced the frown. “Dungeon Lord, are you, perhaps, possessing the body of a giant to confront me?”
“I’m afraid not,” Alder told the creature, who was in the shape of a ten-year-old dead girl.
The vampire sighed and turned to her coffin. She passed her small hand across the cracked web on the center of the lid.
“Dunghill,” she hissed.
The vampire’s name was Jarlen. She had been Lord Jiraz’ right hand for about a year, but at some point before that she’d also served under his grandfather’s reign. Alder managed to convince her that she wasn’t directly in danger, for now. He told her she had been “rescued” from the Inquisition by Dungeon Lord Edward Wright, and that an offer of minionship may be on the table if she behaved. That didn’t put her at ease, but at least it got her to stop snarling.
“So, Jiraz didn’t survive the raid,” she said when Alder was done explaining. She flicked a golden lock away from her face. “Well. Serves him right. I told him that leaving the Netherworld for this awful country was a bad idea.”
“Wasn’t he, like… your mate or something?” Alder asked, unable to stop himself. Her callousness had taken him by surprise.
Jarlen gave him a dismissive glance and scoffed. “And?” she asked. There was no emotion in those dead eyes. No grief, no regret. Perhaps a hint of rage, but Alder’s empathy talent easily let him know that most of that rage was directed at him and Ed, because they were keeping her captive. No, Jiraz’ was dead, and that meant he was no longer of any use to her, so he may as well never have existed.
