The entire left side of her face was a large purple bruise where a goblin club had struck her, and her right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. While she was still unconscious, Max set her arm, adding a quick and effective field splint, ignoring his own pain, then he held the skin of water to her lips.
“Drink a little of this,” he whispered.
Her green eyes fluttered open, and she sipped, coughed, then sipped again. She opened her eye. The other was swollen shut. “The goblins?”
“Dead or run off,” he said dryly. “It was such a nice little fight, until they ran off.”
“You’re a barbarian.” She snorted a laugh, wincing. “Goblins fight to the death and don’t run off.”
Max gave her an askance look. “When I tore the head off the goblin leader with my bare hands, the others decided they’d had enough entertainment for the day.” He could see her fighting waves of unconsciousness. “I need you to do one thing before you sleep.” His look was wry as he turned his back to her. “I need you to pull this out. I can’t reach the hilt.”
“Oh gods!” she whispered. “I see why the goblins ran.” One of her hands touched his arm. “Get ready.”
“Grrrk!” Max groaned as the blade was wrenched free. His world grayed out for a long moment. Sagging, he blinked and took a deep breath. “Thanks, I couldn’t have…” He turned.
Shy had collapsed to the ground, her face the color of ash, the wicked goblin sword still clutched in her fingers. Max looked at the woman for a moment before he gently removed the weapon from her hand and checked her pulse, which he found to be rapid but strong.
The stream wasn’t too far away, and Max stripped naked before he stepped into the freezing water. Washing the wound on his back as best he could, he washed the other minor injuries, drank deeply of the cold water, then stepped up to the bank to dress. One of the goblins groaned in pain as he attempted to crawl away with an obviously broken back. Max considered his options for only a moment before he knelt and drained the creature dry. The blood tasted… strange, but it invigorated him. After checking the map, he folded it and put it away in his pocket. He picked Shy up gently, cradling her in his arms as he would a small child, and began to run. On the morning of the third day after the battle, he stepped out of a copse of high mountain hemlocks and into the town of Sloobork.
Chapter 5
OEWAELLE
The scent of raw meat and the growling of his stomach finally woke him, jerking him upright in his bed. A half kilogram of red meat rested on a white china plate on the nightstand. There was a white napkin nearby. His mouth watered involuntarily. Forcing himself to use the provided knife and fork, it still took him only a few short minutes to devour the ridiculously large slab of meat then wash it down with a convenient tankard of water. Sighing in satisfaction, he leaned back in his bed and studied the well-ordered room he found himself in. So this is Sloobork. He vaguely remembered entering the town, carrying Shy in his arms, and gentle hands removing the girl from his care. Afterward, he recalled sitting on a low bench then falling over. Had he really run for three days without rest or stop to bring Shyilia to safety?
Throwing back the down quilt, he stood and looked down at his naked body. Studying it in the mirror, he saw the wound in his back had been reduced to an angry purple scar. Nothing visible remained of the other less-serious infirmities. Smiling, he passed his fingers through his brown hair, which had been neatly trimmed to match his now-tidy Vandyke, and felt a woman’s touch in his arranged appearance. His worn traveling clothes sat folded on a chair by the bed, and as he began to dress, he noticed that they had been cleaned and repaired. Even the waffle tread of his boots had been cleaned. Sitting on the floor behind the chair, the Saracen blade and the goblin sword that he’d kept for some odd reason had been cleaned and sharpened. Though wiped of gore, the staff still bore the scratches and gouges of the recent battle. The heavy pack sitting on the floor appeared to be unopened.
Making a studied gesture, he whispered a word and stared at the small flame dancing capriciously in the palm of his hand. It wasn’t a dream, after all. He grinned… then it faded as a disturbing possibility crossed his mind. Perhaps he never survived the shooting in that dark alley in Romania. Perhaps this was his own afterlife. Looking around the immaculate room that smelled faintly of lilac, he shrugged. If it was the afterlife, there wasn’t much he could do about it but play the cards he was dealt.
His ornate room was only one of many set along a long, winding hallway. Sunlight glowed through the many windows, and vases of fresh flowers set in deep wall niches along the hall gave the whole building a fresh outdoorsy feel and smell. Stepping into a cavernous banquet room, he stopped and stared. Massive wooden beams thirty meters above his head held up the great vaulted ceiling, while six chandeliers suspended on gossamer strands blazed with light. Iridescent sunlight poured through lofty gabled windows of exquisite stained glass, transforming the entire vast room into an etheric wonderland. The grand wooden table running down the center of the room could have easily sat one hundred guests. It took him several moments to realize that two figures, robed but not hooded, were approaching him, wide smiles on their faces.
“I am Styvius Cluzax, mage of the blue sash,” the first figure, an older gentleman with a long gray beard, said, extending his hand for Max to shake. “And this”—he nodded to the statuesque raven-haired woman wearing a snowy-white robe and standing at his side—“is Grand Master Mage Oewaelle Itkey, who herself is a refugee from the Guildhall in South Brosthik.” He smiled warmly. “Welcome to Sloobork, and Vexeth Guildhall and Academy of the Arcane.”
Max returned the man a wide smile. “That’s quite a mouthful, my lord.” He nodded to the woman. “My name is Maximilian Smith, and I have no fancy titles.”
The older man chuckled, and his beard bobbed. “Titles aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, and please call me Styvius.”
The woman’s handshake was warm and firm. “And please call me Oewaelle, Maximilian.” She said in a low contralto voice that was clipped and concise. Her smile was unforced, and her gaze was so penetrating that Max had difficulty looking away from her striking violet eyes.
Max shook his head. “Just Max, please.” He grinned. “The plate of raw meat on the nightstand gave it away, so tell me how you knew I was a vampire.”
Oewaelle raised a single eyebrow. “No mere human could have done what you did, Max.” She laughed lightly at his surprised look. “Shyilia woke for a time yesterday and told us her story.” Her look became hungry, almost predatory. “She mentioned that you saved the four great books from my guildhall.”
Max snorted. “Shy almost had an accident when she discovered that I had the books.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “I spent the last three weeks on our journey here reading and practicing what was in those books—but I do have a few questions.”
Oewaelle shot Styvius a startled glance before she turned back to Max. “You read them… and understood them?”
Max nodded. “For the most part. If you can understand the instructions for installing and connecting a Wi-Fi router back on my world, you can understand those.”
The woman frowned.
“As I said, I have a few questions.” He lifted his hand, concentrated briefly, and without a gesture or word from Max, a small flame danced from his fingertips, skipping from finger to finger. As he closed his hand to a fist, the flame disappeared with a faint pop.
Oewaelle straightened. “We should continue this conversation somewhere more private, Styvius.”
“Ahhh, of course.” Styvius turned back the way they had come.
Looking at the two, Max was suddenly aware of who was the senior of the two magic practitioners. While Oewaelle appeared far younger, she radiated power and seniority.
Max stopped them before they had gone more than two steps. “Excuse me, but if you will wait a
moment, I will go to my room and fetch the books I spoke of. The sooner I turn them over to a person who can appreciate their worth, the better.”
The tall woman stopped and turned, her eyebrows rising. “You could sell those books for a fortune.” Her voice was flat and emotionless.
Max chuckled. “Money is vastly overrated,” he replied soberly. “I know for a fact that when you die, you can’t take it with you.”
“So,” she asked, her tone level but her eyes sparkling, “what do you take with you, then, when you die?”
Max gave her a little bow as he turned away. “A sense of humor.” He said over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”
Shyilia was waiting in the small wood-paneled chamber when Max and his new companions arrived. The injuries on the side of her head seemed to be healing nicely, although the blue, purple, and green tones of the bruising clashed with the shade of her skin. Her left eye, although open to only a slit, seemed to be functioning. Her right arm, wrapped in white bandages, rested in a sling. Max gave her a long look.
“You look like hell, but it’s good to see you up and about.”
Her smile was lopsided. “Thank you,” she said simply, “for saving my life.”
“It’s what friends do.” He grinned. “Did they tell you that I retrieved the goblin sword you pulled from my shoulder?”
Shy blinked. “No.”
“I thought you might like it for a souvenir, to hang over your mantel or something.”
She snorted a laugh and winced in pain. Watching her, Max knew that it would be a short meeting. Opening the pack, he removed the four books and slid them one at a time across the dark polished table to Oewaelle. Your property, my lady.”
Oewaelle looked at the books then up at Max. “You are a very odd man, even for a vampire.” She turned to Shyilia. “Perhaps you could tell us why you were in South Brosthik, and not in the elfin land of Ideryn?”
“My father, King Iangwyn, sent me to beg your help.” She laughed bitterly. “The forces of supreme governor and the provincial governor of Wraniel are threatening our borders, and my father is at his wit’s end trying to deal with it. It seems that you had your own problems in the province of Sanerona with the regional governor Drusus Cantius Perperna.” She glared at her splinted arm. “Now here I am, battered and unable to complete my mission, or even return home.”
Oewaelle gave her a sympathetic smile. “Have you told Maximilian who you are?”
Shy looked mildly embarrassed. “I may have forgotten that little detail, but I did teach him about our recent history.”
The mage frowned, and Shy seemed to shrink. “You didn’t tell him that you are Crown Princess Shyilia Iangwyn, jewel of the throne of Ideryn, and next in line to rule the elfin lands?”
Looking at the table, Shy swallowed. “No.”
“Ah well.” Oewaelle turned slightly and gave Max a slow wink. “Perhaps I’ll just review what you taught Max, and then we’ll move on from there.” Leaning back, she folded her narrow fingers primly. “As I’m certain Shyilia told you, Aeyaqar was a very successful constitutional monarchy, run from a castle named Laigemor in the distant principality of Yuviel.” She sighed, her glorious violet eyes filling with both memories and tears. “The dragon came from nowhere on a day when parliament was in session. His flaming breath gutted the castle, killing all the sitting parliament. The castle was massive, and the crown jewel of Aeyaqar. Ten thousand people, all the royalty in the land, in fact, lived and died there. The world went mad for a time, until a young and ambitious governor stepped in to restore law and order. Caius Cincius Livianus declared himself supreme governor and enforced martial law to ensure the peace. To the skeptics, he gave solemn assurances that he would only remain in power so long as the monarchy remained absent, and he would do his utmost to find the remaining royalty and return them to their rightful place.” She gave Max a wry look. “That was eight years ago. Since then, not one royal has been located.”
Max rubbed his trimmed beard and stared at a blank wall, his mind far away. “Didn’t anyone think that everything was just too pat? Didn’t anyone think to question the motives of this supreme governor?” He snorted a cynical laugh. “All this man had to do was to summon a dragon to a certain place on a certain day and get rid of the dragon when the bodies were still smoldering. Then after people begin to panic, he simply steps in and declares martial law. By the time the population figures out that something in the whole setup smells, it is too late.” He looked up to Oewaelle. “I’ll just bet that anyone who raises a stink right now simply vanishes.”
The woman gave him a sad look and nodded slowly. “And that’s not all—the supreme governor has instituted a program to arrest all the vampires in the land and all magic users that are known to have traveling ability.” She glanced at Styvius, who gave her a tight nod. “The council of mages believes that the supreme governor will attempt to invade your former world with his army.”
Max stared at her for several long moments before he began to laugh. Three pairs of eyes glared at Max as he finally managed to get his mirth under control, wiping the tears from his eyes with his shirtsleeve.
“I hope that you have a good reason for your levity,” Oewaelle hissed in an angry voice. “I—”
“Oh, keep your pantyhose on,” Max interrupted, leaning back in his chair.
The woman’s face went scarlet, and she began to tremble. Max watched, gauging his timing. When she was about to explode, he continued calmly, “You all know that I came to this world via a gateway.” He smiled at Oewaelle and saw her seethe. “I was born on Earth, and my world is made up of many disparate and often warring countries. The country I came from, and in which I served for many years in the military, had a standing armed force of a million and a half men.” He watched the numbers sink in. “Some countries have militaries in excess of two million men. Most countries don’t maintain militaries in the million-man range, but none… none are as low as ten thousand.” He barely suppressed a growl. “New York City alone has a force of police in excess of thirty four thousand men and women. Your supreme governor attacking Earth would be like a mouse biting a lion on the toe and thinking he would have him for dinner.”
“But…” Oewaelle began, defending the armies of her world, “we have battle mages.”
Max scoffed and continued sadly. “We have weapons launched from another continent that will vaporize cities, destroy continents, and burn the very sky.” He leaned forward, his eyes nearly glowing in anger. “If this idiot tries to invade, all he will succeed in doing is to alert Earth governments that gateway travel is possible, and they will capture and use a vampire to come to this world. Eventually, because they are quite clever, they will figure out how to do it without a vampire. This world will fall to the military machine of Earth, and there is nothing you can do to stop it… except stop this supreme governor idiot from doing something everyone will regret later.”
“But…” Shyilia began hesitantly, “don’t you want your world to conquer ours?”
Max shook his head. “Fuck no!” he snapped then continued more calmly, “I wouldn’t have my people come in and rape this planet like we did to ours.” He held her eyes with his. “We’ve polluted and stripped our world so badly, we’re trying to establish a colony on our neighboring world simply because our planet won’t sustain us any longer. Aeyaqar is much easier to get to than ferrying colonists ten million leagues to a new home.” He finished in a cold, unrelenting voice.
The three faces looking at him turned the color of ash.
“I’ve given this some thought,” Oewaelle said slowly. “The only real chance we have of pulling the supreme governor’s teeth is by removing his ability to travel through a gateway.” She looked up at Max. “To do this, we must rescue all the vampires and magic users.”
Max winced and asked Oewaelle, “Do you kn
ow where the magic users are being held?”
She thought for a moment. “He keeps them in a large castle in the Ehah Archipelago just off the shore of the Jagatika province, a thousand leagues to the west.”
Max sagged at the distances involved, especially when traveling in a pre-industrial society. He was trying desperately to remember where the province was located on the map he’d seen, when he noticed Shy’s pain-filled face.
Oewaelle caught the direction of his look and rose to her feet in a flowing motion. “The princess should go to bed… now!” Her voice held a whip-crack, and two attendants immediately entered the room.
“I will not be sent to bed like a—” Shy began.
“You will do as I say, Shyilia,” Oewaelle said gently. “A healer will be here very soon from the outer district, and your wounds will be tended then.”
Shyilia pouted, and Max could see that the young princess was used to getting her own way. “Fine!” she snapped, struggling to her feet.
When Max stood to assist her, the look she shot him put him back in his seat. Flanked by the attendants, she turned for the door.
As soon as Shy had departed, Max turned his attention back to the two mages, leaning back in his chair and smiling.
Styvius raised a single silver eyebrow. “Could you perhaps share the jest with us? I find myself in need of some levity.”
Max let out a resigned sigh. “I’m just finding it refreshing to see that the corruption on this world is so similar to that on my own.” He shot Oewaelle a wink. “It restores my belief in the capricious nature of the universe.”
The tall woman glared at him for a moment. “You’re a bad man, Maximilian.”
Max gave her a small seated bow. “I do but try, dear lady.”
Conversation in the room waned as each person sought to understand what Max had just explained. Finally, it was Oewaelle who began the dialog anew.
Destiny of the Vampire (Adventures of the Vampire Book 1) Page 6
