The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI (2 page)

Raine was a little startled when those great breasts came tumbling towards her. This was not unfolding exactly as planned. She had thought to “discover” the keeper’s vampyrism, then ask some naïve questions about the Shadow Guild to test her for any knowledge. But these creatures could be unpredictable and impulsively sexual. Although most just wanted to feed off her, every once in a while it could descend into something more.

And that wasn’t going to happen. Raine lifted the woman with enormous strength and flipped her so their positions were reversed. She pinned her hands above her head.

“I know that you are vampyre” Raine said quietly. “And you’re going to answer my questions or I will destroy your covey.”

“I will do no such thing,” the keeper said, nearly spitting in her fury. She did not see how this woman could be so strong. Very few could match the strength of a vampyr, and this one did so effortlessly.

Raine ignored her words. “I am looking for the Shadow Guild.”

This produced no reaction whatsoever, telling Raine all she needed to know. Few knew of the guild-within-a-guild, the very upper echelon of the Assassin’s Guild. Those that did were terrified to speak of it and generally had a marked reaction. The name meant nothing to this woman, however, who just began to struggle and continued to spit in her fury. Her fangs were beginning to show.

“I thought to transform you, to give you our gift, but now I’m just going to suck you dry.”

“Well that’s not very attractive,” Raine said, enraging the woman further. Try as she might, though, the innkeeper could not get loose from the iron grip of the stranger, so she began screaming.

“Oh, wonderful,” Raine said, sighing.

The man came slamming through the door and in an instant, Raine was on her feet, her dagger out. He rushed her with the overconfidence of someone used to physical dominance, and he paid dearly for that misjudgment. Although there was much folklore on elaborate methods required to dispatch the undead, none of that was true. Killing them just required inflicting a massive amount of damage in a short time, enough to overcome their rapid healing abilities. And Raine delivered that massive damage by stabbing him in the heart, then cutting off his head, not because these acts were necessary for killing the creature, but because they were sufficient. The man disappeared into a cloud of black ash that fluttered into a pile on the floor.

Raine spun about as the innkeeper charged her, breasts heaving in fury. She stopped the stampede of body parts with a strength that was again supernatural, slamming the woman against the wall. She pinned her with an arm to the throat, but somehow the keeper was able to struggle free just enough to sink her teeth into Raine’s forearm.

The tavern keeper gazed at the stranger in triumph. The effect of a vampyr bite was near-instantaneous, injecting poison upon the first break in the skin. It quickly immobilized, paralyzing prey much like a spider. And the vampyr, like the spider, could then feed at leisure. The creature could sate its bloodlust, then transform or kill its hapless victim.

But the vampyr’s bite seemed to have no effect at all on the woman pinning the innkeeper. She had not even flinched at the painful attack but rather had secured her grip so she could not be bitten again. And as time ticked by and the vampyr waited for her to weaken, such a thing did not happen. And the taste that was in the vampyr’s mouth, the blood that she licked from her own lips, was something extraordinary.

“What are you?” the keeper muttered.

“Something far more dangerous than a vampyr, I assure you.”

Raine struck the woman with her free forearm, such a massive blow it would have crushed a normal skull. But this was not a normal creature, and although the blow rendered her unconscious, it did not kill her. Raine released the innkeeper and she fell to the floor, sprawling in an ungainly position. Screams from the main hall pierced the air, and Raine rushed through the door.

The female vampyr held the little girl clutched to her chest. The cry of pain of her male companion had warned her that, impossibly, things were not going well in the bedroom, so she chose a most cowardly defense. Raine stopped in her tracks, afraid for the little girl. The woman was clenching her small frame so tightly the girl was turning blue.

“Help me!” the creature cried to the thrall, who dumbly began to get to her feet.

Judging by the insane fury in the creature’s eyes, Raine knew there was no negotiating with the vampyr. So she flipped the dagger in her hand then hurled it with tremendous force so that it pierced the woman in the throat and pinned her to the wall. Simultaneously, an arrow pierced the right arm, then another the left, so that the little girl scrambled free and ran to her mother. Then two more arrows struck down the thrall. Raine glanced to the doorway where Feyden stood, having already notched a third arrow, poised should it be needed.

It was not. The vampyr struggled and gurgled, but could not free herself from the impaled objects. Lorifal strode over to the creature, his great axe resting on his shoulder.

“Is this your ‘messenger?’”

Raine shook her head. “No, there’s another in the bedroom.”

“Good,” Lorifal said, and with a tremendous swing of his axe, he decapitated the creature. The head screamed as it fell to the ground, smoked, then turned to a small heap of black ash. The body emitted black smoke, then it, too, turned to ash which fell to the floor. There was the shape of a headless body outlined in black on the wall.

“And this one?” Lorifal asked.

“That’s just a thrall. Put her out of her misery.” And the great axe did so, creating another pile of black ash. Feyden retrieved the arrows impaled in the wall, checked them for their integrity, then slid them back into his quiver.

Raine turned to the serving woman who was clutching both children to her.

“Are there any more of them?

“No,” the woman said, trembling.

“Are any of you bitten?” Raine asked, glancing meaningfully to the little girl.

“No,” the woman said, shaking her head. “I checked her. And she shows no signs.” The woman looked fearfully at Raine’s forearm, where the reddened, swollen wound was clearly visible. “But you were.”

Raine glanced at the wound, dismissing it. “They cannot harm me,” she said, then corrected herself. “Well, they can harm me as that did hurt. But they cannot turn me.”

“How is that possible?” the woman asked. Although there were enchantments that could ward off the vampyrism, and poultices that could stop the spread if applied quickly enough, she did not know of anyone who could ignore a vampyr’s bite without consequence.

“The gods watch over me,” Raine said, but there was a trace of sarcasm in her voice. One god in particular watched over her, but that malevolent attention was not protective in nature.

“How long have you been here?” Feyden asked.

“I—, I’m not sure,” the woman said. “I think it has been several months. Those foul creatures took us, and they cut me….” She held out her arms for inspection, revealing numerous small slices across the veins, “and they…”

She trailed off again, unable to continue, but Raine understood. The vampyres had kept her alive and captive to feed off her.

“Did they harm your children?”

“No, but that seemed only a matter of time.”

Raine was relieved. By the look in that man’s eyes, that time was almost upon that little girl.

“We’ll get you to safety. Gather your things.”

The woman and children went into a small room off to the side, returning a short time later with a pitiful amount of belongings, barely a bundle. Raine took one last look in on the unconscious innkeeper, and Feyden peered over her shoulder.

“Should I ask why that one is naked?”

“I have to use whatever tactics present themselves,” Raine replied, a trace of color in her cheeks. “You know how unpredictable these creatures are.”

Raine donned her armor, dragged the innkeeper out of the tavern, then burned the building to the ground. Feyden and Lorifal both carried a child and Raine half-carried the woman. They reached a small village by morning, delivering the family to safety. Raine tossed the woman a bag of coin that would feed her children for ten years, and waved off her gratitude, simply warning her to remain silent about what she had seen. She did not want the woman to be one of her “messengers” who would not survive once they told their story. When out of sight of the village, they set up a small campsite to rest and eat. Raine began to dress the wound from the vampyr’s bite.

“Let me help you,” Feyden said. He applied the ointment that Elyara had provided them. Elyara was a wood elf whereas Feyden was of the Alfar, the high elves that lived on Mount Alfheim. Feyden’s skills were of the deadly variety, lethal with a bow and sword, whereas Elyara was a talented mage and healer. She knew they would be dealing with the undead and had provided a poultice that would deal with their bite.

“Do you think this would help Lorifal or me if we were bitten?” Feyden asked.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. Vampyrism is half-disease, half-magic. Elyara said this ointment deals with the physical disease. The enchantments she provided you two,” she said, nodding at the gold necklaces that each wore, “will ward off the magical curse. But she was not certain that either would work with a very powerful vampyr, which hopefully we will find at the end of this.”

And they most certainly would find such a creature, Feyden thought, if Raine continued to leave her messengers behind. She planted seeds of information so that the survivors would spread tales of a reckless stranger who was looking for the Shadow Guild. And there was no danger in letting those vampyres live because the moment the Shadow Guild found them, they would be killed for mentioning their name, even if they had no idea what that name meant.

“And they seem to like my blood,” Raine said, examining the bandage with admiration.

“Is that part of your trap? More bait?” Feyden asked. There was no doubt in his mind that Raine had let the vampyr bite her, knowing that she could easily have prevented the injury.

“Yes,” Raine said. “A little intrigue to the stories. Someone looking for the Shadow Guild, who somehow is immune to the vampyr bite, and who—,” she paused looking for an adequate description, then laughed.

“And someone who tastes really good.”

Chapter 2

T
he imperial guards watched the two hooded figures closely. They were milling about the outer courtyard of the palace, and although the courtyard was not necessarily a restricted area, these two seemed suspicious and out-of-place. First off, they were completely cloaked with no distinguishing characteristics visible. Secondly, they were extremely tall, standing nearly head-and-shoulders over everyone in the vicinity. Thirdly, the outline of their cloaks revealed they were carrying swords, again, not illegal but a cause for heightened scrutiny given the two previous factors. Finally, they moved with a dangerous grace, the kind of athleticism that was born on the battlefield, not in recreational activities.

The chief guard finally had enough. There were constant rumors of assassination attempts directed at the Emperor, and he was not going to see those rumors come true on his watch. He waved for several guards to accompany him, then walked over and confronted the two.

“What is your business here in the capital?” he demanded coldly.

“We are meeting with an imperial knight.”

The chief was surprised the voice was female, given the size of the person. Still he was not taking any chances. “You will remove your cloaks and identify yourselves.”

The demand was not unreasonable, but the tone was unnecessarily harsh. And the fact that the chief guard grabbed the arm of the woman roughly was a mistake. The second, taller of the two figures removed her cloak with a flourish and drew her sword at the same time, the maneuvers performed so swiftly the sword materialized beneath the chief’s chin before he could react.

“You will take your hands from her now.”

The chief stared up at the woman as the guards accompanying him drew their swords in alarm. She was striking, fine patrician features tensed with intensity, full lips pursed in a frown, brown eyes dark with warning. She wore full armor, gold and red with a gleaming raised eagle on her chest. The other woman, the one who had spoken first, put her hand on her companion’s forearm.

“Calm yourself, Rika.”

The chief released his grip and stepped back as she, too, removed her cloak. He was flabbergasted. She was just as stunning as the first, with flashing dark eyes, shoulder-length dark hair, and chiseled features. She, too, wore the gold and red armor and although he could not place the emblem, the quality of the workmanship was astonishing.

“What is going on here?”

The chief guard was greatly relieved to see the Knight Commander striding towards them. She was a formidable person and would somewhat offset the overpowering presence of these two strangers. Her next words, however, chilled him to the bone.

“Why are you accosting the Royal Princess of the Ha’kan?” she demanded angrily.

The man turned bright red and began to sputter, but Dallan saved him.

“It’s our fault, Nerthus. We sought to travel in obscurity and did not announce ourselves. He was simply doing his job.”

The pale skin of the Knight Commander was ruddy with anger. “Not very well,” she said with a contemptuous stare. “And you will keep the identity of these travelers secret.” The man shifted in confused embarrassment. Fortunately, in this instance, the Knight Commander’s anger was as quick to dissipate as it was to rise, for otherwise her temper was legendary. She relented and waved him off. “You are dismissed.”

The men did not move, however, and just stood staring at the two women. None had ever seen the Ha’kan before. They rarely left their own land, although with the re-opening of the Garmlain trade routes, sightings had been more frequent. But rumors of the beautiful, all-female race abounded. They were said to be highly sexual, non-monogamous creatures who considered talent in the bedroom as important as any other talent in their society. Their culture thrived on the interlocking sexual relationships of their people. And this was the Princess of the Ha’kan, the living embodiment of all of those rumors. The men stood with their mouths open.