Here Shines the Sun (67 page)

JINK-JINK-JINK!

Malachi got his mace up defensively as knights poured into the room, firing on him. A bolt exploded off his breastplate, and one off his greave. He flourished his mace, blocking another shot, but the knights all began firing at once. Another bolt burst off his breastplate and then his mace, but then his body twisted as one hit him in the stomach, blowing a bloody chunk of meat out of him. He fell to his knees just as another exploded on his face.

Belphegor grabbed Loretta and pushed her against the wall, standing before her like a shield.
JINK-JINK-JINK!
Belphegor flourished his sword, bolt’s breaking upon his blade. Loretta screamed as one of the bolt fragments hit her cheek, slicing it open.
JINK-JINK-JINK-JINK-JINK-JINK!
Blood and bone exploded from Belphegor’s arms and legs. He fell to his knees as more bolts opened up his belly and then finally took off his head. And now the knights all trained their weapons on Loretta.

Lightning flashed in the barred window of the chamber. In the brief, white light Loretta saw huge, wolfen hands wrapping around the bars. The knights were about to fire when the entire encasement was torn from the wall.

They all turned as a hulking, bestial form slipped into the room. Before they could even train their weapons on it the shaggy, gray-furred thing tore into their ranks. Claws flashed. White teeth snapped from a snarling muzzle. A gusher of blood and limbs was thrown into the air, painting the walls, floor and ceiling red as mangled bodies were tossed from the window. And then it was done. Blood and entrails dripped from the ceiling. A fecal odor filled the room. The creature turned and fixed the stairway with its yellow eyes. Bootsteps and shouts; torchlight coming down the stairs toward them.

“Kalarus,” said Loretta. “Agana is in the city. Find her.”

Kalarus eyed the stairs as he stepped in front of Loretta. “
Let me devour these for you first!
” he growled.

“No.” said Loretta coldly. She wiped at her bleeding cheek and looked at the blood. “Naughty. So naughty.” she said with frigid ruthlessness. She looked at the hulking wolf-man. “Find Agana. Bring her back to me safe and sound. Leave these naughty people to me.”

Kalarus turned and bounded out of the broken window he had come through. Loretta stepped toward the stairway. As she did, she became tall, rigid and cruel, her eyes hateful, dark orbs. Twenty knights poured down the stairs and into the room. They stopped in their tracks as they saw Loretta. Bolt-throwers were raised.

“
You’ve all been naughty, naughty children!
”

The knights all backed up, lowering their weapons. They held their heads low, as if suddenly ashamed of themselves.

“
You can’t do anything right! You disgust me! You’re all terrible children! So weak! So pathetic! You make your mother angry
!”

All at once the knights began to tremble. Bolt-throwers fell from their hands, as if they were suddenly too heavy for them to hold.

“
Look at you, you’re all pathetic! Worthless! Weak! Crying brats, the lot of you!”

The knights all fell to their knees, trembling and weeping. Loretta loomed over them, glowering, and they huddled together like frightened children. From her gown Loretta produced a menacing, iron paddle. Dried bits of flesh clung to the rusty spikes that covered its broad, flat end.

“
Mother will punish you! Mother will punish all of you!
” She raised her paddle and brought it down on the first knight. He wailed like a child in agony. She raised the paddle again, blood and gore dripping from it, and she brought it down once more.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Sir Spengle stood in the shadows of an alley between two shops at the perimeter of the town square. A handful of his most trusted knights stood by him ready for any orders he might have. Beyond the tall shops and inns he could see the spires of the church in flames. His knights and the townspeople had taken care of the Saints and clergy there and he felt some satisfaction knowing that there were no more threats within the city. Castle Valdaria, however, still had him on edge. To the east he could see some fires raging from the windows of the castle and wondered if the King and Queen and their Saints were dead, or if he and his men might be set upon at any moment. His finger nervously tapped the handle of the bolt-thrower strapped around his shoulder.

“Sir, perhaps you should leave this to the townspeople?” asked one of Spengle’s knights. “Our skills might be better put to use aiding our men within the castle?”

“No.” said Spengle. “I must see her burn.” At the center of the town square, in front of a great topiary in the form of a raven, his knights had set a number of wooden posts and were in the process of binding Agana, the Priest and his Oracle and Sin Eaters to them. Townspeople worked quickly to pile wood at their feet, tossing armloads at a time. The Priest, Oracle and Sin Eaters were already dead—all of them had been shot or taken down by swords—so burning them was more for closure’s sake than anything else. But Agana was still alive and the little girl was beginning to come to.

“Sir, perhaps we should help with the pyre then?” asked the knight.

Sir Spengle shook his head. “No. I need you here by me.”

“But Sir, if we get this over with quickly we may yet be able to help the others within the castle.”

“No.” said Spengle. “Let Saint Tiffany handle all of that. We’ve done our part.”

“Sir, with all due respect,” began another knight. “They may need our help in there. Look how many we have here. At least let me lead our knights to the castle. While Tiffany and the others strike from within, we can strike from without. We can end this all quickly.”

Spengle shook his head. “You there!” cried Spengle. He stepped from the alley and grabbed a passing man by the arm. “Find a torch. Burn them now! The Vampire is awakening.”

“I’ll do it.” said another man. He was a strong, tall fellow with a bolt-thrower over his shoulder. Spengle thought he could see the flicker of regret in the man’s brown eyes. “I should be the one. If she must burn, it should be by my hand.”

Spengle nodded. “Quickly then. Get a torch.”

“Ophelia?” Spengle turned to see Agana lift her head. She looked around, confused. “Ophelia?” She squirmed against the post she was bound to and Sir Spengle suddenly worried that she might slip from the ropes that wound around her body.

“Burn her! Quickly!” yelled Spengle. “Burn her now!”

“What’s happening? Where’s Jackson? What are you doing to me?” Agana’s voice was getting more frantic as consciousness began to return to her.

Spengle stepped back into the shadows of the alley. He watched as the man he had spoken to came up to Agana with a torch in hand. Beneath Agana some townspeople began splashing kerosene on the wood. Others began shouting obscenities at her or spitting in her direction.

“Where’s Jackson?” cried Agana. “I want Jackson!” She looked at the man with the torch. “I want my mommy! I want my mommy!”

“Burn her! Burn the Vampire!” The rest of the townspeople were becoming as restless as Spengle, wanting to watch the flames cleanse her from the world. As much as Spengle had wanted to end her quickly, nothing but fire would do for the people. Agana had taken many of their children. Agana was a nightmare that kept parents awake at night. They would not settle for a silver bolt through her head, or an axe upon her neck. They wanted her ashes carried away upon the winds; to know that not even her bones remained to haunt them. “Light her! Burn her! Cleanse her from this world!” they shouted.

“Wait! There is something I must confess!” cried the man with the torch. “She was my doing! She was my sin! Before she burns, let the Goddess hear my confession!” He looked at Agana. “Ursula.” he said. “That was her name.”

Agana looked at him, tears rolling from her eyes. “Why do you keep calling me that? I want my mommy! I want my mommy!”

“I… I wanted to tell you before, back at the house.” said the man. “I… I must confess my sins to you.”

“Please! Please!” cried Agana. “I want my mommy!”

The man looked down for a moment. “Your name was Ursula.” He looked back at Agana. “You had a brother named Rook, as I was told, but your parents had died of starvation. You came from the country of Jerusa.”

Agana looked at him with red eyes. “Why are you saying that? My name is Agana! My mom is Queen Loretta and my father is King Verami!”

The man shook his head and wiped at his eyes. “I bought you from a slaver to save my own daughter. When Saint Ophelia came, we gave you to her and said that you were our daughter. My wife, her name was Britina. She held you as a baby, and Saint Ophelia tore you from her arms. She… she didn’t want to give you up. She had only held you for a short time, but she wept for a week after you were taken.”

Agana shook her head. “Why are you saying this? I want my brother! I want Jackson! Mommy, mommy! Help me!” she screamed.

“Do it now!” yelled Spengle from his alley. “Do it now!”

“I’m so sorry.” said the man, his voice breaking with tears. “Aeoria forgive me.” He tossed the torch into the pyre.

Flames began to spread, engulfing the pile of wood. To Agana’s left, the fingers of fire began to lick at the ends of the Priest’s long, black robes. In the cracked mirror-mask of the Oracle, bright, red flames flickered.

“Help! Help!” shrieked Agana. “Mommy!”

Screams, but not from the pyre. Heads began to turn and then people began to run. Sir Spengle peeked around the corner of the alley he stood in. Like an approaching wave, blood and limbs shot above the rooftops, rushing toward the town square. Men screamed and bolt-throwers fired. Townspeople ran. And then Sir Spengle saw him. It was Exalted Lord Kalarus. He bounded down the avenue, his jaws and claws ripping through the ranks of those unlucky enough to be in his way.

Sir Spengle, threw his back against the wall and sunk into the alley’s shadows. His hands trembled and his teeth began chattering. His breaths came in frantic pants.

“Sir,” said one of his knights. “Come, we must fight!”

Spengle looked at the man.

“Sir, hurry!”

Spengle took his bolt-thrower in his hand. The knight turned from him.
JINK!

The rest of his knights turned, stunned by the sudden burst of blood and armor. One of them looked at Spengle. “You son of a bitch!” The man lunged at him.

JINK-JINK-JINK! JINK-JINK-JINK!
The knights all fell, torn armor and chunks of meat painting the alley walls.

Spengle stepped over the fallen knights and into the town square.
JINK-JINK-JINK! JINK-JINK-JINK!
“Kalarus! Kalarus!” he cried as he mowed down the knights and townspeople in the square. “Quickly, we must save the Princess!”
JINK-JINK-JINK! JINK!-click-click
.

Sir Spengle tossed his bolt-thrower to the ground and grabbed a fully loaded one off the body of one of his fallen knights. Then he raced toward the pyre where Agana cried as the flames began to lap up around her. “Kalarus!”
JINK-JINK-JINK! JINK-JINK-JINK!
Spengle shot down everybody near the pyre before they even knew what was happening. He slung the bolt-thrower over his shoulder and began kicking away the burning wood at Agana’s feet. “Don’t worry! Don’t worry, Princess! I’ll save you!”

Spengle felt a tremendous impact as he tumbled across the cobblestone road. He looked up and saw Kalarus’s monstrous, wolfen form in the flames. With a roar, Kalarus ripped Agana, pole and all, from the fires and bounded out of them. He stood over her on all fours, snapping up a man in his jaws and shaking him so ferociously that blood and limps flew high into the air. Knights and men ran up, firing at him with bolt-throwers. The beast’s thick, gray fur jolted from every blast but seemed to have no effect on him.

“Silver!” cried a man. “We need the silver bolts!”

Spengle got up to his knees.
JINK-JINK-JINK!
He blew the man’s body apart. He turned his weapon on others,
JINK-JINK-JINK!
JINK-JINK-JINK!
“Kalarus! Get the Princess to safety!”

With claws as black as pitch, Kalarus tore the ropes from Agana and cradled the crying girl under one arm, tucking her up against his chest. He leapt into a group of knights, scattering them, just as some townspeople fired, opening up a string of bloodless holes in his fur. Kalarus snapped his enormous, wolfen head toward them and roared out as Spengle turned his bolt-thrower and mowed them all down.

Kalarus fixed Spengle with his yellow eyes. “
We must get back to the castle! The King and Queen are in danger
!”

Spengle nodded. Kalarus turned to bound off when fur and blood exploded off his back. Kalarus fell and howled. He tucked Agana beneath him.
JINK! JINK!
A chunk was blown from the beast’s side, and one from his left leg.

Spengle looked up. From the rooftops were three men, each with long, slender-barreled bolt-throwers. They began reloading and in one of their hands Spengle saw the gleam of a silver bolt. He raised his own bolt-thrower to them.
JINK!-click-click-click.
Spengle looked at his weapon and cursed. He tossed it to the ground.

The men on the rooftops all trained their barrels down at Kalarus. Agana screamed as a volley of fire rocked his body.

Spengle scrambled to a dead knight and picked up a bolt-thrower. He turned it up to the roofs.
JINK-JINK-JINK! JINK-JINK-JINK! JINK-JINK-JINK!
Two of the men fell before they realized what was happening. The third turned his gun from Kalarus and pointed it at Spengle.
JINK!

Sir Spengle dove as the cobblestone at his feet broke apart from the blast. The man on the roof started reloading as Spengle ran toward the fallen Kalarus and threw himself against the beast’s body. Kalarus stirred and struggled up to his feet.
JINK!
Kalarus made a terrible howl and then collapsed again. Spengle stood up and fired on the rooftop.
JINK-JINK-JINK!
The man screamed and tumbled from the roof. Spengle then turned around, scanning the streets frantically. The wounded and mangled were everywhere, some of them still moaning and writhing in the bloodied streets, but everybody who could flee had done so at this point.