Morningstar (36 page)

The first guard had fallen to his knees, but now he struggled to rise and began to crawl up the stairs toward the double doors. Corlan pulled up and loosed an arrow that took the man low in the back. He reared upright, them tumbled back down the stairs.

We reached the doors and pushed them open.

The hall inside was deserted, dark hangings blocking the sunlight from the six arched windows within. The smell that greeted us was musty and unpleasant, part mildew, part corruption.

We moved inside, closing the doors behind us. Corridors led off to left and right, and a long staircase lay before us, the carved handrails gleaming with gold leaf.

“Now what?” whispered Wulf.

“Find the bastards and kill them,” said Mace, but there was uncertainty in his voice. The hall was huge, the corridors dark and forbidding. Where would we find the kings? Above, below, left, or right? And how long did we have before dark?

“Owen, you and Wulf take the corridor to the left,” said Mace. “Corlan, you and Ilka go to the right. I’ll take the upstairs. Raul, you come with me.”

“You think this is wise?” I asked him. “Splitting our force this way? Can the spirit of Megan not guide us?”

“She is gone,” he said softly. “And if we were wise, Owen, we’d follow her lead. Let’s move!” Without another word he ran for the stairs, Raul following.

Wulf swore and laid aside his longbow and quiver. “It will be no use in there,” he said, drawing his two short swords. The blades were so bright, the eye could not focus upon them. I drew my dagger, and we moved to the left. Within a few paces we found the entrance to a stairwell, winding down below the
palace. Wulf swore again, keeping his voice low. “I must be insane,” he hissed as he descended the first few stairs. I followed.

For some time we moved through deserted corridors, down stairways. All around us was an eerie silence, and I could hear the ragged, frightened rasp of Wulf’s breathing and feel the pounding of my own terrified heart.

The only light was cast by our flickering blades, and all the doorways we came upon were locked from within.

I tapped Wulf on the shoulder. “This is pointless,” I whispered. He nodded, and we began to retrace our steps.

“
Beware, Owen
,” hissed the voice of Megan in my mind.

A whisper of movement came from behind me like a breath of cold winter air. I spun and lost my footing—it was that which saved me. Cold, cold hands touched my throat, but I was falling and the grip failed to take. I slashed upward with my dagger, which tore through the black cloak, thudding into flesh beneath. The Vampyre screamed then, a high-pitched awful sound that filled the ears and stunned the mind. My hand froze. But Wulf leapt forward to ram his sword into the creature’s mouth, lancing it up through the brain. So great was the light from the blade that the Vampyre’s skull glowed red. Pushing myself to my feet, I plunged my dagger into the point where I felt the heart should be. But the blade merely rang against the stone of the wall, numbing my arm, and the creature’s cloak and tunic fell to the stairs. Of the Vampyre there was no sign.

From below we heard sounds of movement, and dark shadows played against the wall of the winding stair. “Back!” yelled Wulf.

I stumbled back up the stairs. A dark-cloaked figure moving with awesome speed, faster than a striking snake, grabbed at Wulf’s ankle, dragging him down. Without thinking I hurled myself at the creature and sliced the dagger across its face, opening a jagged wound that did not bleed. Wulf stabbed upward, and once more the creature disappeared. But more of them were coming from below, and we turned tail, racing up the stairs and into the hall.

A woman grabbed me, lifting me from my feet, but Wulf stabbed her in the back, and she slumped forward, dropping me to the flagstones and falling across me. As she, too, disappeared,
I felt what seemed to be a fine powder settling on my face and into my mouth. It tasted of ash. I retched and spit it out. Wulf spun on his heel and attacked the creatures storming the stairwell, but there were dozens of them, and they forced him back. A dark sword plunged into his chest, and the hunchback roared with pain, then sent a backhand cut that half severed the head of his attacker.

An arrow slammed into the forehead of the leading Vampyre, and he fell. Wulf scrambled back, the black sword still jutting from high in his chest. A second arrow hammered into the throat of an advancing creature, and I saw Corlan throw aside his bow and charge, his silver sword a blur of white light in the gloom of the hall. For a moment only I thought he would kill them all, such was the ferocity of his assault. But a jagged blade ripped into his belly, and he fell into their midst. Wulf’s legs gave way, and he slid down the wall, dropping his swords. I ran forward, scooping one from the flagstones just as two of the demonic warriors attacked. I tried to block a thrust, but the speed of the blow dazzled me, and the sword moved past my guard, the blade missing me but the hilt cracking against my shoulder. Pain burst through me in a wave of fire. My arm was useless, and the sword fell from nerveless fingers. Death was before me. I looked into the bone-white face of my opponent, the white-gray eyes, the pallid skin, and the elongated canines. He lowered his sword and grasped my jerkin, dragging me forward as his mouth moved toward my neck.

Just then Ilka appeared, her saber ripping into his throat. Raul Raubert, yelling an ancient battle cry, joined the attack. And Wulf, brave Wulf, gathered his swords and heaved himself to his feet, half stumbling into the attack.

The Vampyres fell back, and at the rear of the group I saw a creature taller than the rest, face long and fine-boned, eyes slanted and dark. It was not the face I had seen formed from the blood of Cataplas, but the features were similar, and I knew that this was one of the Vampyre kings. My right arm was still numb, but drawing my dagger left-handed, I hurled it with all my strength. I am not and never have been skilled with weapons, but the blade flew to its target as if guided by the hand of destiny. It entered the creature’s right eye and buried itself all the way to the hilt. He screamed, and his slender hands reached up, grabbing the hilt. But then he sagged and slid to the floor.

He did not disappear, but vainly sought to pluck the weapon loose.

“Raul!” I shouted. “The head! The head!” And I pointed at the struggling Vampyre king. Raul Raubert raced forward, his sword hissing through the air. It cleaved the creature’s neck, and the head tilted. Yet still the hands scrabbled at the hilt. Raul struck again, and now the head came loose, rolling to the flagstones.

In that moment every Vampyre in the hall disappeared, and the flesh vanished from the corpse of the king. Close to the skeleton lay a skull seemingly carved from ivory, and in the empty eyesocket was my dagger.

I stumbled toward it, retrieving the weapon.

“Was that Golgoleth?” asked Raul. I shook my head. Corlan groaned, and I made my way to him, kneeling at his side. Blood was staining his chin, and his eyes had the faraway look of the dying.

“Is … Ilka safe?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

His eyes closed. “They … took her. I’m … glad … she escaped.”

“Lie still. Rest.” I wanted to say words of comfort, but I had none. What could I promise this man, this killer, this hero? Redemption? Forgiveness and the promise of eternal life? I did not believe in those things. But I needed to say no more, for he died there without another word.

Raul had moved to the open doors. “God’s teeth!” he said. I ran to the sunlit entrance. Outside, hooded against the sunshine, hundreds more of the creatures were swarming across the market square. Raul and I slammed shut the doors, lifting the bronze reinforced bar into place to secure them.

“It is not going to hold them for long,” he warned. A great hammering started on the doors, the wood shivering.

“We’ve got to find Mace,” I said.

Wulf was sitting with his back to the wall, the skull in his lap. His face was gray, and blood was seeping from the wound in his chest. The sword was still jutting there; it was high, just under the collarbone. “Can you walk?” I asked the hunchback.

He shook his head. “You go on,” he said.

“
There is danger close by
,” came Megan’s voice. I spun, but the hall was empty.

“You are wrong, lady,” I said aloud.

“
I can feel it, moving closer to you. Deadly. Closer
.”

I swung again, but there was nothing save the creatures beyond the gates, and they could not effect a swift entry.

Something moved behind me, and I turned and saw Ilka approaching. Opening my arms, I took her into an embrace. My hands stroked the skin of her back, feeling the flesh beneath the thin tunic. “You are very cold,” I said, rubbing her harder. Her head was resting on my shoulder, and I felt the chill of her face against my neck.

And in that instant I knew.

“Oh, dear God,” I whispered, holding her close to me, waiting for the fangs to open my throat.

I felt her hand move to my side, but there was no sharp bite to my jugular. Instead she slumped into me, and I heard her sweet voice echo in my mind for the last time. Her head fell back. Her eyes were still beautiful, and I did not look at her mouth, not wishing to see the Vampyre canines.

I glanced down to see that she had taken my dagger and plunged it into her breast. I lowered her to the flagstones, tears blurring my vision, seeing not the Vampyre but the lover I would never hold again.

She died there, and her body did not disappear.

Raul laid his hand on my shoulder. “She saved you,” he said, his voice low. “She was a Vampyre, and yet she saved you.”

“
It is almost upon you, Owen
,” Megan’s voice screamed inside my skull. “
Run!
”

“The danger is past,” I whispered, still cradling Ilka’s body in my arms.

“
No! I can feel it!
”

Even through my grief I felt the sudden chill of understanding. “Megan!” I cried. “It is not here. The danger is with you. It is coming for you!”

But there was no answer. No link.

The numbness had faded from my shoulder, and I laid Ilka’s body down and took up her silver saber.

Somewhere within this Vampyre-haunted palace was Golgoleth.

And I would find him.

Astiana awoke in the night, a dark dream hovering at the edge
of memory yet slipping away before she could fasten to it. She sat up; the cabin was empty and cold, and she rose from the bed.

Mace and the others had gone, and she felt alone.

No. she realized, not just alone. Desolate. Empty.

You fool, she told herself, remembering again that night on the journey from the ruined cabin. Everyone had been asleep, save Piercollo, who was on watch. Astiana had felt the need for solitude and had wandered away into the forest to sit beside a silver stream. Swiftly she had disrobed, putting aside the thick woolen habit and her underclothes of cotton. The stream was icy cold, but she enjoyed the silky flow of the water over her skin.

Mace had found her there.

“You should not stray from the camp,” he had said. “There are still robbers in these woods.”

“I have the Morningstar to protect me,” she had snapped, angry to be disturbed and sitting up with her arms across her chest.

“No need to be frightened. Sister,” he had said. “I’ll not molest you.”

“I do not fear you,” she had told him.

“You’ve a good body. Shame you’ve decided to waste it.”

“How dare you!” she had stormed, rising from the water. “You speak of waste? I have spent my life helping others, healing the sick, giving hope to those who have no dreams. What right have you to speak to me of waste? What have you ever done save gratify your lust?”

“Not much,” he had admitted. “And you are quite correct; it was a stupid thing to say.” He had smiled suddenly and removed his shirt, tossing it to her. “Here! Dry yourself. You’ll catch cold.”

The shirt smelled of wood smoke and sweat, but she had used it anyway, then clothed herself.

“Thank you,” she had told him. “Both for the shirt and for your courtesy.” She was angry still but struggled to mask it. Although she would never have contemplated allowing Mace to make love to her, nevertheless she was irritated that despite finding her naked, he had made no attempt to seduce her.

“What will you do,” she had asked him, “when the people
finally realize what you are, when they see you are not a legend?”

“I won’t be there to suffer it, lady,” he had told her.

The sharp retort died in her throat, for at first she thought he meant he would flee and then she realized what he was saying. Her resentment of him vanished like a spent candle.

“I’m sorry I said that,” she whispered. “The words were born of anger.”

He had shrugged and grinned. “The truth mostly is, I find.”

“I don’t want you to die, Jarek.”

“Why should you care?” he had asked, pushing himself to his feet. “You don’t even like me.”

“No, I don’t. But I love you.” The words had rushed out before she could stop them, and strangely, she was not surprised. It was as if Mace’s readiness to die for the cause had breached the wall between them.

“Oh, I know that,” he had said. “Most women do.”

Then he had walked away.

She had scarcely spoken to him after that.

Now he was gone. They were all gone.

Astiana sighed. I should be with them, she thought. I am a Gastoigne sister and pledged to stand for the light against the gathering dark.

Silently she left the cabin and walked across the clearing toward the night-dark forest.

She traveled for hours, long past the dawn, arriving in mid-afternoon at the remains of their camp fire. Wearily she sat by the ashes, her thoughts once more on the night by the stream.

Her limbs felt heavy, drained of energy, and she lay back on the soft ground with her head pillowed on her arm. Almost at once she fell asleep and dreamed she was floating beneath the stars in a jet-black sky. There was comfort in the dream, freedom from care and fear, and she soared through the night unfettered.

Below her lay Ziraccu, dark and gloomy, a black crown upon a hill. She flew closer, seeing the Vampyre mob beating on the gates of the palace. Such was the power of the evil emanating from the scene that it pushed her back, as if she had been touched by hellfire. She fled the city and found herself hovering above a hillside where a gray hooded figure was kneeling with head bowed.