Morningstar (37 page)

Movement caught her eye. A man was creeping toward the gray-cloaked Megan, and in his hand was a dark-bladed knife.

“Megan!” screamed Astiana.

The hooded head came up, but the man sprang forward to bury his knife into her back. Megan fell and twisted, her hand pointing up at the assassin. Light blazed from her fingers, enveloping him.

And his screams were terrible to hear.

His flesh bubbled and burned, fire blazing from his eyes. The body collapsed, searing flames bursting through his clothes. Within seconds there was nothing on the hillside save a severed foot and half a hand.

Megan struggled to her knees, her bony fingers trying to reach the knife at her back.

Astiana’s spirit sped back to her sleeping body, and her eyes opened. Rolling to her feet, she ran for the hillside.

Megan had fallen once more and was lying facedown on the grass. Astiana gently turned her, cradling the old woman’s head. “Megan! Megan!”

“I … am … alive,” whispered Megan.

A dark moon shadow feel across them. Astiana glanced up—and her blood froze.

Silhouetted against the moonlight was a tall, wide-shouldered man with a face as pale as ivory and eyes the color of blood. Upon his long white hair sat a thin crown of silver, inset with pale gems.

“Carleth!” hissed Megan, struggling to rise. The man smiled, and the elongated canines gleamed in the moonlight. Astiana could not move even when he bent and reached for her, his fingers curling into the folds of her habit. Slowly he drew her to her feet.

“I will give you immortality,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “And you will serve me until the world ends.”

“Let her go, demon!”

Carleth’s head turned slowly, and Astiana saw Piercollo standing close by. The giant was unarmed, and Carleth gave a soft laugh. “You wish to stop me, human? Come, then. Come to Carleth.”

“No!” shouted Astiana. “Run!”

The Vampyre king hurled her aside and advanced on Piercollo.

“My, but you are a strong fellow,” said Carleth. “I can see that you have great power in those limbs. But you have a lesson to learn. This is real strength!” With stunning speed he launched himself at the Tuscanian, his fist cracking against the giant’s chin. Piercollo was lifted from his feet and sent spinning to the grass.

“Astiana!” called Megan weakly.

Astiana, still half-stunned, crawled to her. Megan drew her dagger from the sheath at her side and pushed it into Astiana’s hand. The blade was shining brightly. “Kill it!” Megan ordered.

Piercollo rolled to his knees, then staggered upright. Once more the Vampyre attacked, but this time Piercollo’s huge hands closed upon its throat, squeezing tight.

“I do not need to breathe,” said Carleth, untroubled by the pressure. His arms lashed up and out, breaking the giant’s grip with ease. Piercollo launched a fist, but Carleth swayed aside and laughed aloud. “How pitiful you are.” He struck Piercollo in the face, and Astiana heard the breaking of bone.

Rising to her feet, she ran behind the Vampyre king, plunging the enchanted blade deep into his back. Carleth screamed and swung toward her. Piercollo leapt forward, his right arm snaking around Carleth’s neck and his left hand pushing down on the creature’s shoulder. The giant’s attack forced Carleth to his knees; then, with a titanic heave, Piercollo threw his weight back while pushing forward and down with his left arm. Carleth’s neck stretched and snapped, the skin of the throat ripping and exposing the bone. Still the Vampyre struggled, and Piercollo was almost thrown clear. But with one more awesome effort he ripped the head from the shoulders.

Carleth’s body fell to the ground, the head falling from Piercollo’s grip.

The giant took a deep breath and rose, moving toward Astiana. “He did not hurt you?” he asked.

“No. Where are the others?”

“Inside,” he said. “I think all is not well.”

That is the story as Astiana told it to me. And Piercollo’s words were uncannily accurate.

I took the stairs two at a time, Raul following me. I cared nothing now for life, for in my despair I thought nothing of a future
without Ilka. All that drove me was the desire to see Golgoleth die. For with his death, the city would be free.

At the top of the stairs I halted. Ahead of me was a warren of corridors, and I swung to Raul. “Where did you last see Mace?” I asked him.

“We came up here and separated. I went left, but the doors were all bolted. There’s a second stair leading up to the next level. I think Mace must have taken it.”

I had never been in the governor’s palace, and I struggled to remember all I had heard of it. Built some two hundred years before by one of the Highland Angostin kings, it now housed works of art, sculptures and paintings plundered from the continent during the Oversea War. There was a hall containing almost two thousand paintings, some of them hundreds of years old; that was on the third level. There was a window to my left, covered by a velvet hanging. Running to it, I tore the cloth loose, allowing light to spear into the gloom of the corridors.

But it was moonlight.

I moved forward toward the rising stairs. A black cloak was draped across the banister rail at the top, all that remained of a Vampyre warrior. “You were right,” I told Raul. “Mace went this way.” The saber hilt was slippery with sweat, and I wiped it dry on my tunic. Then I mounted the stairs. From below we could hear the relentless hammering on the doors, the creaking and the groaning of the wood.

We came to the top of the stairs, and I saw Mace’s bow and quiver lying in the hallway. More than this, we heard the clash of sword blades coming from beyond an open doorway. Before I could stop him, Raul had leapt ahead of me, running to aid Mace.

But my mind was cool, my thoughts clear as ice crystals. I ran to where Mace’s bow lay and looped the quiver over my shoulder. Then, taking up the bow, I moved to the left of the doorway, peering around the frame. The room beyond was full of dark-cloaked warriors forming a great circle around two swordsmen. I saw Raul overpowered and dragged forward, his arms pinned behind him, and then I watched as Mace and Golgoleth circled one another. The Vampyre king was tall, wide-shouldered, and powerful, moving with a speed both unnatural and chilling. For all his great skill, Mace looked like a clumsy farmhand, his sword flailing ineffectually.

Golgoleth was toying with him, taunting him. “You pitiful creature. Where has your skill gone? I expected more from you.” The hall was lit by scores of red-glassed lanterns whose light made the scene glow like a vision of hell.

Mace was bleeding from many cuts to his face, arms, and body, but still he stood, moving warily, sword raised. I glanced up. All around the hall was a balcony, and many more Vampyres were crowded there, looking down on the battle. Golgoleth attacked once more, his body a blur, his black sword lancing out like a serpent’s tongue. Mace threw himself to his right, rolling to his feet, but a fresh cut had appeared on his right cheek, and the skin was flapping, blood gushing to his jerkin.

“You worm!” roared Golgoleth. “For all that you have cost me I will make you suffer. There will be no eternity in the darkside for you. I will not make you one of us. You will know pain no mortal has ever experienced, and I will not let you die.”

“Talk is cheap, you ugly whoreson!” snarled Mace, but it was a defiance born more of courage than of hope.

Laying down the saber, I notched an arrow to Mace’s bow. Drawing back on the string, I aimed the shaft.

Just then something struck me from behind, hurling me to the floor, and I felt a weight upon my back and fangs ripping at my throat. I tried to roll, to twist my head, but the pain was excruciating. My face was pressed to the wooden floorboards; my hands scrabbled toward the saber lying closeby, but the Vampyre’s fingers locked to my wrist.

I heard a hissing sound, then a crunching thud accompanied by the splintering of bone, and the weight vanished. I rolled to see Wulf on his knees at the far end of the corridor, his bow in his hands. A dark cloak was draped across me, a silver arrow upon it. I pushed myself to my feet.

The Vampyres within the hall had turned and were advancing toward me. Beyond them Mace had been disarmed, and Golgoleth was holding him aloft by the throat, shaking him like a trapped rat.

Swiftly I gathered the bow, notched an arrow, and loosed it at the broad back of the Vampyre lord. The shaft slashed through the air. As soon as it was loosed, I knew I had missed the killing shot, but the arrow plunged through Golgoleth’s forearm. He did not even seem to notice it, nor did he loosen his hold on the dangling figure of Jarek Mace.

But just as the Vampyres reached me, I caught a glimpse of Mace reaching out and grabbing the jutting shaft, tearing it loose, and plunging it into Golgoleth’s throat. A terrible scream rent the air, and the Vampyres advancing on me halted and spun. Releasing his hold on Mace, Golgoleth staggered back. Mace fell to the floor, but as Vampyres swarmed toward him, he gathered his sword and leapt forward, the blade of light sweeping in a vicious horizontal cut that hacked through Golgoleth’s neck in one awesome stroke.

Within a single heartbeat the entire hall was empty and silent save for Raul Raubert and the bloody but triumphant Jarek Mace.

The Morningstar fell to his knees. I sank to the floor, my back to the wall, and saw again my lovely Ilka. Emptiness flooded my soul.

And I began to weep.

Raul approached, putting his arms around me. Thankfully he said nothing, and I was comforted by his presence. After a while Mace, carrying the skull of Golgoleth, joined us. Raul explained about Ilka and the others, and Mace patted my shoulder and walked out into the corridor.

Raul helped me to my feet, and we followed the Morningstar. He was sitting beside the ashen-faced hunchback. “All this for a few skulls,” said Mace with a forced grin.

“You ain’t so … handsome now,” offered Wulf.

“Women love scars,” countered Mace. Slowly we made our way down to the lower hall, Raul half carrying Wulf, and I supporting the Morningstar.

Night had fallen, but the city was empty and silent, and we sat on the steps of the palace and felt the cool night breeze upon our faces. The wound in my throat was stinging, but I scarcely felt it.

After a while we heard the sound of marching men and saw Brackban, Piercollo, and hundreds of warriors come into sight. Brackban ran to us, kneeling before Mace.

“By God, you did it!” he cried.

Mace was too weary to respond. “There is still one more king,” I said.

Brackban shook his head and told me of Piercollo’s battle with Carleth. “How is Megan?” I asked.

His face was solemn as he answered me. “She is alive, but
she has a knife wound in her back—deep and, I fear, mortal.” I closed my eyes, a great weariness settling over me. “You won,” I heard him say.

“I lost something more valuable, something more precious …” I could say no more. Pushing myself to my feet, I wandered away into the deserted city.

12

M
OONLIGHT BATHED THE
silent city as I walked. I had no feeling for direction and was moving aimlessly. In the distance I could hear Brackban’s men singing of the victory, their laughter echoing in the narrow streets.

I turned a corner and found myself standing in the same alleyway where I had first seen Jarek Mace leap from the balcony. It seemed as if centuries had passed since then … a different world. I sat down on the cobbles and wished that I had my harp. I could not even remember the name of the girl we had rescued. There were no more tears inside me at that time. Ilka was gone, and I felt the emptiness that comes with the cleaving of shared memories. Part of the joy of life is to sit with a loved one and say, “Do you remember that day on the mountain?” Or perhaps a walk by a stream or a dance at midsummer, when the rains come. Joys continually given the breath of life by the speaking of them.

We had made love only nine times. And I recall every precious moment, every touch and kiss, the sweetness of her breath, the smell of her hair.

I sat alone, my mind floating back through the days in the forest. A door creaked, and I looked up to see an elderly woman and a small child emerging into the night. The woman was skeletally thin, her shoulders bowed. The child was standing, clinging to her hand, her eyes wide and frightened.