Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3) (6 page)

Gareth’s arm drove downward toward the weakest point on the spine and snapped it. The vampire flopped once with a scream and lay immobile, though his eyes were wide open. He still had a voice and was screeching in terror until Gareth silenced him with another slash of his terrible claws. More blood stained the white ground.

Adele was distracted by Gareth’s sudden violence, so she didn’t see the elder vampire surging at him until it was too late. Gareth was borne to the ground in a flurry of snow. The older vampire’s arm slashed downward, but Gareth blocked it. A well-aimed kick sent his opponent flying backward. Immediately and without quarter, Gareth followed and the two vampires exchanged blows, each one expertly blocked and parried.

Gareth saw an opening and slipped in, coming into close quarters, and used that position to rip out his opponent’s throat. The elder vampire fell limp into Gareth’s arms.

He swung the old man’s legs up and carried him to where he had been sitting. Gently he laid the vampire on the ground, almost reverently, adjusting his arms over his chest. He stayed down on one knee for a moment. “He fought well. I was sorry to kill him.” Then he stood, walking over to a mound of clean snow, and wiped the gore from his face.

It took a moment to find her voice, but then Adele asked, “Are you hurt?”

“None of this blood is mine.” Gareth’s eyes searched for her and then settled on her shimmering form. He smiled crookedly, and then turned around and strode through the gate. Adele waited a few seconds and then entered enemy-held Grenoble.

Sunlight glinted off the steel figures marching steadily on Grenoble. The Katangans encased in the metal frames pounded the hard icy ground of No-Man’s-Land, spikes on the bottoms of their feet dug deep and gripped tight, giving them purchase. The steaming metal men
formed a broad wedge aimed at the wall of the town, with the mass of the Equatorian army shuffling behind.

Anhalt rode a dappled mare in the gap between the infantry and the steel front. The horse was sure-footed even in the churned frozen ground left by the heavy Galahads, and she did not shy from the rumbling, clanking tanks. It was the rattle of Anhalt’s scabbard that made her prance in frenzied excitement, anticipating battle. The general twisted in the saddle to observe his army, grunting with satisfaction. The advancing force included every man who wasn’t manning the cannons or part of a skeleton crew in the trenches to guard their rear. Every scrap of armor and ammunition had been served out. If this assault failed, there would be no way to defend from the vampire counterattack. If Adele lost her mad endeavor, the campaign would end here on the frozen field outside Grenoble.

The vampires swarmed in a large black cloud over the city like an ominous storm. With every minute, more drifted in from all directions to join the flock. The more that gathered, the better for the empress, Anhalt thought.

The general was surprised that the vampires hadn’t yet engaged. Perhaps the Galahads had made the creatures cautious; the new weapons, no doubt, perplexed them.

The mass of airborne vampires undulated like a single entity, causing the rank-and-file troopers to pause and tremble, but officers shouted encouragement, bolstering flagging determination, reminding them of their duty to the Empire, to their comrades, and to themselves. The men marching nearest Anhalt gripped their weapons tightly, and every once in a while he would see a man flex his fingers to keep them limber in the frigid morning air. The rumor that the empress had delivered a secret weapon did something to strengthen weak backbones and faltering hearts.

The spearhead of Galahads reached the ready point one mile from Grenoble’s ancient wall. They halted with a squeal and a burst of steam.

Anhalt spurred his mount toward the front infantry. He felt the air spark with the anticipation of battle. Company commanders yelled orders, echoed by sergeants. Formations shaped up, presenting modern rifles along with tried-and-true sharpened steel, bayonets and long savage pikes, almost like musket squares of the sixteenth century.

The bagpipes of the Twenty-fifth Lost Highlanders blared to Anhalt’s left. They all claimed some Scottish ancestry and therefore seemed unnaturally eager to be heading north to reclaim their mythic homeland. The sirdar cared little for restoring ancient titles or lands, but if such beliefs helped drive some of his men, he would gladly use them.

General Anhalt rode the length of the line, waving his glowing saber, his voice booming out to the front ranks. “Equatorians! Today! In this place! We begin the liberation of humanity! Grenoble will be free! And soon the entire world will be free! Because of what you do today, your children will know vampires only in ghost stories told around campfires! But you know the truth. You know these animals can die. And they will die! Today! By your hand! By the hand of Equatoria! You are human! This land is your heritage! The first strike belonged to them, but the final blow will be ours!” He stood in the stirrups, pointing his saber in the direction of the vampire city. “Kill! Them! All!”

The men bellowed as one, deafening all else, their blood burning hot with defiance and resolve. Rifles were shaken overhead and swords were struck against mail shirts, raising a raucous din.

The swarm of vampires twitched, and suddenly shifted toward the human army like a flock of birds, all wheeling as one in the sky.

“Fire!” came Anhalt’s hoarse cry.

Three regiments simultaneously fired; nearly two thousand rifle muzzles flamed. The gunsmoke formed a thick barrier before the wind carried it swiftly away. The front rank of vampires were sent tumbling backward as bullets ripped into the black mass.

With a loud rumble, rockets flamed from short-barreled turrets atop the shoulders of the Galahads. They sped into the sky, exploding in the midst of the vampires, shredding them with shrapnel.

“Forward!” Anhalt screamed through the chaos.

The lead Galahad began to lumber on toward its objective. The other metal men spurted steam and ground to life. The iron forms crushed through the snow, blazing a trail toward the city as hundreds of vampires dove at them. One of the Galahads lifted its arm, and whirring gears raised multiple copper tubes from the forearm casing. With a snap and a spark, massive flames burst forth, enveloping the vampires. The creatures
fell back screaming, their clothing and hair and flesh ignited. They careened into each other, and plummeted smoldering to the ground.

Four spearhead tanks let loose a salvo of rockets at the city walls. Red streaks flashed over white earth until they impacted on ancient stone unprepared for modern explosives and erupted in fire and wreckage. Through the smoke it was clear the wall was shattered. A second round of rockets obliterated it, creating a gap of nearly one hundred yards. The walking giants drove on, unstoppable objects plowing through snow and bone.

The Galahads attracted the attention of the greatest part of the defending packs. Vampires collected in the air over the metal men, diving and striking, then rising. Others scrambled on the frozen ground, like dogs attacking a bear, even climbing onto the iron frames. Many of those vampires met with steel limbs given unbelievable strength by rapidly firing pistons and ratcheting gears.

The infantry squares fought hard to keep up with the tanks, even as countless vampires dove among them. Pikes swept the air, attempting to block the drifting creatures from getting within deadly arm’s length. Gunfire blasted the vampires, but killing shots were rare. The monsters took bullet after bullet, and still knocked the pike blades aside, striking soldiers from above or settling to their feet and leaping like leopards among the soldiers. Once several creatures penetrated the outer edges of the square, men panicked and fired among their own ranks, or swung swords wildly, as likely to strike their comrades as the vampires. Still, sheer firepower allowed the humans to hold off the mass of the enemy, and struggle forward amidst smoke and blood and screams.

Anhalt glimpsed the sight he was expecting but dreading. The first Galahad had just reached the smoking wreckage that had been the wall, and it stopped dead in its tracks, billowing white smoke. Its chemical fuel was spent. Vampires fell upon the motionless heap, toppling it, trying to get at the human trapped inside the heavy steel container. Then one by one, the lumbering tanks shuddered and halted on the field of battle, leaving a desolate field of frozen statues among the dead and fighting.

“With me! Make for the city!” Anhalt yelled, spurring his horse ahead of his men, leaping over one of the motionless Galahads lying on
the blood-soaked ground. For a brief second, Anhalt locked gazes with the horror-struck Katangan trapped inside. Then he was past, galloping to Grenoble. Troops rallied with him, surging forward with their commander, screaming victoriously as they clambered over the rubble and entered the enemy city for the first time.

Vampires were waiting for them.

Anhalt didn’t stop. His mare bowled into them. She neighed sharply in pain but obeyed her rider’s commands. The general cleared a path for those coming behind. Time slowed and everything around him was as if stuck in a mire. Only he was moving. He howled a battle cry and jabbed forward, twisting and cutting at every fanged shape with his Fahrenheit saber, whose chemical coating burned. Pain actually registered in the wide eyes of the vampires who drew back. Anhalt had no idea if he was alone or surrounded by his men, but he would not stop. He only knew he had to push the line. Kill vampires.

His arm was numb with the continuous effort of driving at the creatures. He was covered in as much blood as his smoldering blade; he was slick with it, screaming a challenge like a man obsessed. He killed and went forward again. Then something struck his head and he fell back against the mare’s haunches, barely keeping his stirrups and his weapon.

He tried to right himself while the horse careened into bodies. When he saw three vampires swooping at him from above, he knew he was lost. He couldn’t raise the saber in time, and his pistol was long since spent. His angle was too awkward, and he was unable to do more than watch his demise approach.

A burst of rapid gunfire brushed his hair, and the vampires disintegrated in a spray of blood and bone. Anhalt twisted to see his savior, a palsied Galahad approaching with faltering steps.

With a shout, he saluted the man inside and brought his mare back under control. Then the machine gun on the tank rattled through empty chambers, its ammo at last spent; its fuel would not be far behind.

Anhalt slashed with his saber at monstrous faces all around him. Soon all ammunition would be spent. The ordnance of sinew would have to hold out until the empress made her play.

A
DELE HAD BEEN
in one other vampire city in her lifetime. She tried not to think about the horrible things she had seen in London, though she knew she would see them again in Grenoble. Vampires turned every city into a cemetery.

Once-bright-red roof tiles lay in shattered rings around the buildings, torn loose by the claws of vampires perching and crawling. The windows and doorways lay bare and open to the elements with nothing but detritus inside. Adele could see the once-regal beauty of exquisite architecture still outlined in the crumbling façades. Framed against the majestic Alps the city still struggled to maintain its dignity. Balconies of stone and metal had collapsed on once-splendid buildings. In the distance she could see the points of rotund towers, so typical of the region. Beside them, Adele and Gareth strolled past pedestals that once held statues but now stood like silent soldiers.

In gruesome contrast, a tableaux of morbid humanity lay frozen on the streets, stiff from ice and death. The bodies were covered in a light dusting of snow for which Adele was grateful because the cold masked the stench and blanketed the horror of what it meant to be under the yoke of vampire persecution. All the cadavers were naked, their clothing likely put to good use by the living. Stepping over a pile of bones, her
foot slipped on slick, icy stones. She reached out to catch herself, and almost struck a passing vampire before she jerked her hand away and grabbed a snapped gas lamp. To her relief, the creature sensed nothing.

A few humans gathered inside stone buildings, huddled around fires. Some glanced curiously at her, but didn’t react. There were far fewer people milling around than she would have expected. As the cacophony of gunfire increased in the western quarter of the city, she suspected that the vampires had gathered their food somewhere to make sure none revolted or ran toward the Equatorian lines.

Gareth resisted glancing toward her and instead marched forward, trusting that she was near him. Adele admired his willpower. She wasn’t sure she would be so resolute were their positions reversed.

The rolling waters of the Isère appeared before them, and though Gareth could have easily lifted off and floated to the other bank, he took a longer route to a footbridge. Adele had to come off the line slightly so they could cross the gurgling river. She redoubled her concentration to maintain her cover. She felt the connection strengthen again as they approached the medieval church of St. Laurent, made of typical whitish stone and red tiles. The old structure lay in less disarray than the rest of the city. Adele’s route lay through the courtyard of the church and then up a steep mountain path to the Bastille, which loomed dark and misty in the drifting snow. The great walled fort on the mountain had been built over a rift, due to humanity’s latent attachment to the Earth’s power. It was also the home of clan leader’s court.

Gareth hissed a warning and Adele started as shadows passed over the frosty stones at her feet. She glanced up and saw ten or more vampires circling overhead like a murder of crows. They had peeled off a larger group heading toward the battle when they had noticed Gareth, a stranger in a city under siege.

Adele took one more step near the church grounds, and the power beneath it swelled within her. It pushed at her barriers hungrily, and it took all her willpower to hold it in check.

“I need a moment,” she whispered urgently, her voice rough with effort.

Gareth stepped closer and then away again as he could feel the discomfort of her presence. “What’s wrong?”

“Too much. It’s overwhelming. I can barely hold it in.”

“You must!”

Gareth looked up at the vampires descending toward them, and Adele immediately knew what he was contemplating.

“No! You can’t win against all of them. I can hold this. I just need time.”

Gareth tensed and then stepped away from Adele, veering from the church. The vampires landed, encircling him. All of them wore the festooned wardrobe of soldiers, a mix of different styles and periods, but all military in design. Their very physique was different from the three at the gate. All muscle and attitude. They challenged Gareth in their native dialect. It always sounded so guttural and harsh to Adele’s ears.

Gareth responded to their call in French. “I am Prince Gareth of Scotland, son of Dmitri of Britain, and I’ve come to see King Vittorio before this city falls to the humans clawing at your doors.”

Gareth could play the haughty prince nearly as well as his brother, but with far less embellishment. The gathered vampires stared past Gareth’s long form and Adele tensed, wondering if they could see her. Then they stated the obvious, as if it were a joke. “You are alone.”

“I do not bring my packs unless I know you are worthy of aid. But they are close enough if I choose to save Grenoble. However, if you are not interested in my offer, I can leave and lend my assistance to your neighbors.”

The vampires hissed their displeasure at being slighted, or compared to their neighbors, the bumpkins of St. Etienne and the pretenders of Lyon.

When one leaned to confer with another, Gareth quickly stepped menacingly to them, straightening his tall frame and stiffening with anger. It was better not to give them opportunity to ponder why he was alone and unescorted. “Soon your city will be flattened and your herds will be seized or scattered. You make the decision for your king, here and now.” Gareth struck the flat of his hand against the vampire’s shoulder. He waited another few heartbeats and then turned on his heel. “Very well. Send my regards to former King Vittorio.”

Two vampires grabbed his arms to prevent his leaving.

“How dare you touch me!” He yanked away his arm, drawing blood as it tore from their clawed grip.

Adele broke into a sweat as more excess power surged into her looking for release. Her body burned with the effort to contain it. She felt like a crumbling dam holding back a destructive wall of water. Several of the vampires glanced around wildly, sensing the change in the energies around them. Adele dropped to one knee and closed her eyes in concentration, silently repeating over and over a calming mantra taught to her by Mamoru.

Gareth snarled. “You are wasting my precious time.”

Another series of explosions shook the ground, and in the distance, dark shapes fell from the sky in pieces.

“Very well!” a vampire hissed. “Come with us.”

They all lifted into the air and aimed for the Bastille high above. Gareth followed, although this time he did look back. His gaze brushed over Adele, but clearly he did not see her. He turned back to his new companions and went to keep his appointment with the king.

Adele concentrated on maintaining her control, trusting Gareth to deal with his brethren. With time, the pressure eased inside her and the roar in her veins abated. Awareness crept back as she stood shakily and noticed a young human girl staring at her. The girl was dressed in filthy rags and her face was devoid of expression, sapped by the hopelessness of her situation. She was watching Adele with the same disassociation one would watch life pass by a windowpane.

To Adele’s surprise, when she moved, the girl stepped forward to follow her. The empress knelt and smiled, lifting a finger to her lips for silence. The girl’s brow furled and her head tilted to the side, the way a puppy would listen to a new sound. Ever so slowly the girl’s eyes brightened and the muscles in her face lightened as her lips drew into a matching smile, and she came to Adele’s side.

Adele reached out and touched the dirty cheek. This surprised the girl, whose eyes widened to twice their normal size. Adele again cautioned silence, and the girl’s own finger lifted to mimic the empress.

Adele’s heart swelled. This was the reason she was here. These people weren’t the mindless cattle most southerners believed them to be. They
deserved a new chance. In a few short hours this child’s life would change. She would be free of the tyranny.

“Soon,” Adele whispered. “You’ll be safe soon.”

A tile hit the street with a startling crash. A vampire dropped to the ground beside them. He couldn’t see Adele but, with horror, she realized she had placed the child in danger. She had brought the girl to the attention of a hungry creature.

The child’s eyes were full of fear, yet also penitence. She didn’t cry or scream, but fell prostrate to the ground. The vampire towered over her.

No, Adele thought. She wasn’t going to watch this child be killed and eaten. Adele stood over the child right in front of the vampire, still masked by the ley line’s embrace. She let the energy give her focus.

The vampire hissed suddenly, and snarled. He glanced around wildly, backing away. He raised his hand to strike, assuming the child was the cause of his discomfort. She slipped off her connection to the line, almost like stepping through a curtain, and the shimmer faded from her body. The vampire reared back in surprise as he saw her dagger slashing downward. He barely had time to shout before Adele’s Fahrenheit blade buried in his chest. She gripped his throat to prevent him from raising an alarm. He gasped like a fish as the heat from Adele’s hand seared him, smoke rising from around her fingers, and he stumbled to the ground. The glowing dagger flashed as it was yanked out and then arced across the vampire’s throat, cutting through vocal cords. Adele pressed him to the dirt with the weight of her body, knees pinning the vampire’s outstretched arms.

The Fahrenheit blade plunged once more where her anatomy lessons told her that his heart should be. And then again. Adele’s breath hissed through clenched teeth. Precious minutes passed before his struggles ceased, and she shoved herself away and sat panting, bringing herself under control. The rush of adrenaline coursing through her system was almost as bad as the rush of power struggling to overwhelm her.

She sought out the little girl, who was on her hands and knees gaping at her, unable to comprehend what she had just witnessed. Then the child’s attention dragged up to stare into Adele’s warm brown eyes. The empress offered a faint smile, again pressing a finger to her lips,
wondering what the child was thinking at this moment. The girl’s attention went from Adele to the dead vampire several quick times, and then she ran off.

Adele was almost disappointed. She hoped she had made a connection. Straightening, she grabbed the vampire’s arms and dragged him into a secluded corner of the church. There was ample rubble to cover him. Sweeping the sky for more vampires, she moved quickly back to the ley line, and felt the warmth of its embrace.

Her pace quickened through the churchyard, risking a serious fall on the ice. Finally she reached the steep rocky footpath going up the mountainside. The way was nearly vertical. The road, if that was what it could be called, cut jarringly back and forth, going several hundred feet one way before veering back again. She had to stay in as straight a line as possible, however, to access the full power of the ley line. Scrub brush and snowdrifts were deep, but still she moved decisively, trying not to disturb the bushes. She had no idea where vampires might be. Their excellent eyesight could easily pick up movement from a great distance.

Adele’s breath wheezed through her blue lips. Her gloves and shoes were wet and cold. She was in good physical condition, thanks to Mamoru’s strict training regimen, but she was still a product of the languid Mediterranean, not the frigid Alps. The cold wind was growing ever more bitter, and the altitude was taking its toll.

She had to go over the curtain wall in order to enter the Bastille. Numb quivering fingers dug into the cracks in the stone, and Adele pulled herself up with aching arms. Without warning, black shadows crossed her and she froze. She craned her head to look. A vampire hovered just to her right, staring at the wall but not at her, not exactly. Something had caught his eye. The wind buffeted his nearly weightless frame farther away, but he continually returned to his original position, still staring, still hunting. Two more vampires gathered beside him, curious as to what had attracted his attention.

Adele’s panic swelled. Her body shivered on the exposed stone wall. The wind cut through her as if she wore nothing. If she hung there much longer she wasn’t sure she would have the strength to make it to the top.

Suddenly the three creatures dove to the earth. Adele flung herself around, one arm clinging to the wall, the other reaching for her dagger, but the vampires darted past her and fell on a small deer hiding in the undergrowth. It died in a spray of crimson.

The vampires laughed and congratulated the one who had made the kill first, as if it were a contest of speed. They left the kill; animal blood offered no nourishment to vampires. It had only been sport. They rose into the air and drifted toward the sounds of battle.

Adele sagged with ragged breaths against the frigid stones. Then she twisted and resheathed her blade. Fingers wedged deep into the gaps without feeling any pain and she hauled herself up to the top. She lay shaking, repeating her meditation technique so as not to lose her concentration on the ley line.

Each exhalation brought a wheezing mantra past her lips. It took every ounce of willpower to push herself to her feet. She conjured thoughts of General Anhalt and his army giving their lives to buy her time, of the little girl below in Grenoble waiting for liberation, of Gareth distracting the clan leader so she could make her way uncontested. Focusing on all those people, she resumed her way to the fort. Finally the gaping mouth of an arched cavern loomed before her, promising some protection from the elements.