04 - Rise of the Lycans (29 page)

“Good-bye, my love.”

Two hundred years seemed like hardly enough.

Sonja’s blood still stained her bed linens. Viktor stood alone in his
daughter’s chambers, having dismissed Tanis and the other vampires from his
sight. He wanted no eyes upon him as he endured the final moments of his
daughter’s life. He held onto a carved wooden bedpost for support. Unbearable
sorrow weighed down his shoulders; he had not experienced pain like this since
his beloved wife had perished in childbirth two centuries ago.

Thank the dark gods that she had not lived to see this day!

He knew that he should leave, that he was only torturing himself by lingering here, surrounded by reminders of Sonja, yet he
could not tear himself away from his daughter’s room. Despite her grievous sins,
he had been impressed and moved by Sonja’s grace and courage at the end. She had
neither denied her crimes nor groveled for mercy like a sniveling mortal. What a
magnificent Elder she might have become, had not that vile lycan seduced her!

He will beg me to put him out of his misery!

Many floors shielded him from the sight of Sonja’s impending cremation, but
he could hear the rusty gears carrying out the lethal purpose for which they had
been engineered. Never before had this fearsome penalty been imposed on another
vampire, let alone one of royal blood, but Viktor himself had commissioned the
mechanism as the ultimate deterrent for any vampire who might dare to violate
the sacred Covenant that governed them all. A clever mortal locksmith, whom
Viktor had previously employed to craft William’s hidden oubliette, had
installed the deathtrap according to the Elder’s specifications.

Little did I know its first victim would be my own daughter!

It was not too late, he knew. He could rush in and call a halt to the
execution. The Council would be scandalized, and he would face strident
opposition from Coloman and the rest, but Sonja would be spared. In time she
might even come to see the error of her ways and renounce her foolish passion
for that lycan scum. She could still make him proud and become his loving
daughter once more.

He moved to the door. His hand fell upon the handle. White knuckles tightened
around the knob.

Then he remembered the unspeakable monstrosity gestating in her womb. Her
unnatural offspring was more than just a scandalous embarrassment; it was a dire
threat to their very kind. It could not be allowed to exist for one more day. No
matter the cost.

He took his hand away from the door.

The metal hatch opened entirely. Daylight poured through the circular gap.
The golden radiance fell directly upon Sonja, who let out a blood-curdling
scream.

No!
Lucian thought,
Not the sun! Not on her!

He lunged forward, desperate to shield her with his own body but the heavy
chains snapped taut, holding him back. Iron shackles cut into his wrists, but he
barely noticed the pain. Silver barbs, buried deep in his flesh, trapped him in
human form. He strained with all his might, working himself into a lather of
blood and sweat, yet there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to save the woman
he loved.

Sonja’s pale face blackened and flaked away beneath the sun’s pitiless rays.
Smoking lesions popped and snapped across her delicate skin. Shrieking, she
tossed her head from side to side but could not escape the unsparing sunlight as
it turned her vulnerable flesh to charcoal. Smoke rose from her dark hair
moments before she burst into flame, the thrashing noblewoman turning into a
living torch. Her charred face contorted in agony, exposing her fangs, while her
blistering arms twisted above her head. Chains rattled as she fought in vain against the manacles binding her to the post. Her ragged shift was set
ablaze. The smell of burnt meat befouled the air. Her golden pendant glowed red
as blood within the hellish inferno.

The scorching heat beat against Lucian’s face. The devouring flames were
reflected in his wild cobalt eyes. Only yards away from the blazing pyre, yet
too far away to do anything but watch the corrosive sunlight consume his
beloved, he bellowed like a madman. His raspy voice joined her dying screams in
one final, excruciating moment of communion.

“SONJA!”

Viktor listened to his daughter die. Her agonized shrieks echoed through the
castle, and ripped his ancient heart to shreds. He pressed his furrowed brow
against the bedroom door, while ice-cold tears streamed down his face. Sobs
shook his ageless form.

Centuries ago, when he had fought for breath upon his deathbed, Marcus had
come to Viktor and offered him immortality in exchange for the mortal warlord’s
assistance against William and the other werewolves. Looking death in the face,
Viktor had gladly accepted the vampire’s bite. For centuries, he had never
regretted that decision.

Until today.

He sagged against the sturdy wood, covering his ears to drown out the
horrific screams coming from the execution chamber. The ghastly cries finally
died away as her lungs were surely seared to ash. Viktor rammed his fist into
his mouth. His fangs gnawed on his knuckles.

No one must ever speak of this again,
he resolved. He would ban all mention of Sonja and her sins, upon pain of death, and order
Tanis to have her name entirely stricken from the archives. The pain of today’s
dark deeds would never leave him, but perhaps, in time, his daughter’s disgrace
would be lost to history. One more secret for him to guard throughout eternity.

The loss of his only daughter was like a stake to the heart.
First my
wife,
he lamented,
and now my precious Sonja.
He was bereft of family
and affection.

Now all he had left was vengeance—against Lucian and all his misbegotten
breed!

Lucian sprawled upon the floor of the chamber, drained of tears and emotion.
Hours had passed and his spilled blood had long since dried, although the
merciless silver still burned beneath his skin, trapping him in human guise. The
killing sun slowly retreated from the sky and the purple glow of twilight filled
the open iris in the ceiling. Storm clouds swept past the opening.

The sun’s departure had not come soon enough for Sonja. All that remained of
the lovely vampire warrior was a lifeless gray statue of charred bone and ash.
Her powdery arms were still raised above her, held in place by the scorched iron
shackles. Her lustrous hair had been completely seared away, exposing the naked
contours of her skull. A look of anguished sorrow, for both herself and their
unborn child, was baked onto her agonized features. Scraps of burnt linen were fused to her remains, barely
protecting her modesty. Blackened bone showed through the cracked charcoal. Only
a solitary golden shimmer added a touch of color to the bleak gray figure:
Sonja’s crest-shaped pendant, still clasped around her lifeless throat.

Even in death, there was something ineffably beautiful about her.

As the last glint of daylight vanished from the sky, the door to the chamber
swung open, disturbing Lucian’s grief. Viktor entered, accompanied by an honor
guard of Death Dealers. Garbed as always in somber shades of black, it was
impossible to tell if the malignant Elder was in mourning. Long-faced and
solemn, he made his way across the chamber to the crumbling effigy that was once
his daughter. If the smoldering ruin troubled him, his austere face bore no
evidence of it. A polished silver broadsword hung at his side. Bits of baked
skin and sinew crunched beneath the soles of his boots.

Monster!
Lucian thought. Unbridled fury reawakened inside him.
Look
what you did to her!

A cold draft entered with Viktor. The wind buffeted Sonja’s remains, sending
swirling clouds of ash across the chamber. The flakes blew against Lucian’s
face. His beloved’s ashes tasted bitter upon his lips.

Ignoring Lucian for the moment, Viktor contemplated the charred corpse. He
reached and brushed the gilded pendant resting against Sonja’s bosom. His eyes
moistened briefly, and a look of genuine grief flashed across his face, but it
passed quickly as his aristocratic countenance resumed a cold, distant
expression. He plucked the pendant from Sonja’s throat, easily snapping the delicate chain,
and turned toward Lucian at last. Icy disdain and hatred smoldered in his
unearthly blue eyes.

His callous inhumanity inflamed Lucian, who matched the Elder’s baleful gaze
with a red-hot glare of his own. His blood surged volcanically in his veins. His
heart was as hard as steel, having been forged and tempered by the tragedy of
his loss. A growl formed at the back of his throat.

Viktor drew his sword and raised it high above his head. Lucian rattled the
chains holding him fast to the floor. It seemed the chamber was about to witness
a second execution, but at the last minute, the Elder had a change of mind. He
stepped back and returned his sword to its scabbard. A cruel smile made him look
even more demonic than usual. “On second thought,” he instructed Sandor. “Fetch
me my knives.”

Lucian guessed that Viktor intended to skin him alive. Part of him welcomed
death and the opportunity to rejoin Sonja in the afterlife, but as his loved
one’s ashes continued to swirl around the chamber like macabre snowflakes, he
realized that he was not ready to die just yet. Not until Viktor and all his
blood-sucking vermin paid for their crimes.

I will have my revenge,
he vowed.
The revenge of the wolf!

A full moon shone down through the open hatch, renewing his strength. He
pounced at Viktor, every muscle in his body quivering in feral anger. The
thrice-damned chains restrained him, but he grimaced in concentration as he
focused all his will on the intrusive silver barbs lodged in his back. The baneful metal kept him from changing,
but his lycan flesh fought against the foreign objects, eager to answer the call
of the moon. Straining muscles rippled beneath his skin, while the tendons in
his neck stood out like drawn bowstrings. Hot blood pounded at his temples. His
jaws clenched as tightly as his fists. His eyes flashed blue.

Waiting for his knives, Viktor chuckled in amusement at Lucian’s seemingly
futile exertions. The other Death Dealers jeered as well.

At first, nothing happened. Then, one by one, the suppurating wounds
contracted, disgorging flattened silver points in what looked like a grotesque
mockery of the miracle of birth. A single bloodstained barb clattered onto the
floor, followed swiftly by two more extruded lumps of metal. The crimson
fragments rolled across the uneven paving-stones. Lucian gasped in relief as,
for the first time in endless hours, the silver no longer seared his flesh.

He was himself once more.

Viktor’s eyes widened in alarm as he belatedly realized what was happening.
He reached for his sword, but he was already too late. The change came upon
Lucian instantly. In the blink of an eye, he grew to Herculean size. His
bloodstained tunic and trousers came apart at the seams. Coarse black fur
sprouted from his hide, covering the ugly welt marks on his back. His hearing
and sense of smell heightened immeasurably, so that he could practically taste
the panic in Viktor’s blood as the Elder grasped his danger. A scarlet haze fogged Lucian’s vision. Iron shackles snapped like dry twigs.

You should have killed me when you had the chance,
Lucian gloated.
Now the beast inside me is free!

Viktor drew his sword, but the snarling werewolf swatted the blade away with
a sweep of its paw. The Elder staggered backward, knocked off balance by the
force of Lucian’s blow. Sonja’s pendant flew from his hand. It skittered across
the floor before coming to rest only inches from her torched remains. Bits of
ash rained down on the pendant, dimming its polished luster. Sonja’s charred
toes crumbled into powder.

The werewolf slashed at Viktor with its claws, tearing the fabric of his
robe. Death Dealers swarmed forward to defend the imperiled Elder. Lucian heard
the distinctive click of crossbows being armed. A silver bolt whizzed past his
head, ricocheting off Viktor’s throne. A second bolt thudded into the wooden
post supporting Sonja’s corpse.

Lucian growled in anger. The wolf in him wanted nothing more than to lunge
for Viktor’s throat, regardless of the odds against him, but his keen mind
realized that, even blessed with wolfen speed and strength, he was at a severe
disadvantage. Searching for an escape route, his eyes seized on one of the
shuttered stained-glass windows overlooking the crypt. His muscles tensed to
spring, but a golden glint caught his eye first.

He knew he could not leave without a token of Sonja’s love.

Exploding into action, he barreled past Viktor. A shaggy paw snatched the golden pendant from the floor. Death Dealers shouted
and swore in rage as hastily fired bolts missed him by inches. Sparks flashed as
the silver points bounced off the granite masonry. A lighted brazier toppled
over, spilling red-hot coals onto the floor. Viktor hissed in rage as he spotted
the pendant in Lucian’s hand. Brandishing his sword, he shoved his own men aside
in his haste to recover the precious memento.

Lucian had his own scores to settle with Viktor, but not now.
Later,
he vowed, clutching Sonja’s pendant in his hairy palm. He growled at his enemies
one last time, then sprang through the beckoning window. Wooden shutters and
tinted green glass shattered before the force of his leap, raining down onto the
cobbled floor of the courtyard outside. The werewolf hit the ground a second
later. He rolled nimbly across the debris before springing to his feet.

The inner bailey of the castle stretched between him and the outer walls. It
was a cold, clear winter night. A full moon hung high above the mountains. His
explosive escape from the mausoleum alerted the sentries upon the ramparts, who
swung around and launched a volley of silver bolts at the fleeing werewolf. The
flying missiles thwacked into the paving-stones all around Lucian. The guards
shouted frantically at one another. A horn sounded a call to arms. Panicked
ladies and servants ran for the safety of the keep.