The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI (9 page)

And she didn’t take it.

The vampyr and his hostage disappeared.

“Damn,” Raine said, and grabbed one of the ropes they had secured to make their way down from the cliff. She flung herself over the side, lowering herself in great leaps as she spooled the rope and pushed away from the rocky wall. The wooden door had hardly closed when she was rushing for it, her companions right behind her, instantly understanding that the plan had changed.

“Run!” Raine commanded the prisoners, slashing their bonds with terrifying speed made only slightly less so by its accuracy. “Get out!”

The prisoners, startled at their sudden change of fortune, complied with alacrity. They fled the courtyard, certain that they had been saved by some stunning demi-goddess.

Raine hit the door with such force that Feyden was surprised it did not give way. But it was locked solid.

“Lorifal, help me with this!”

Lorifal slung his great axe over his shoulder, and together he and Raine charged the door. It gave way with a tremendous booming noise, the hinges torn from the frame as the door itself splintered from the impact.

“Well, they know we’re coming now,” Feyden murmured. He probably could have picked the lock.

Raine allowed her eyes only a second to adjust to the dark, then rushed into the corridor, swords out. She had walked but a few steps when she came across the woman slumped against the wall.

“She’s been bitten,” Raine said angrily. It was an act of spite for the vampyr had not had time to feed upon her. “Torsten, your healer.”

Torsten nodded to the Tavinter female at his side, and she kneeled and began to apply the poultices. It was uncertain if the treatment would work, for they had no mages with them to offset the magical attack of the disease. But it would slow the progression until they could get her to safety and aid.

Raine stood upright. Their need for haste had lessened, but not diminished entirely. They no longer had to rescue this woman, but the vampyres knew they were here and could rally a defense. And the sounds of an uproar off in the distance, one that echoed back down the stone hallway toward them, indicated that resistance was already forming.

“We could wait,” Raine said indecisively. What she wanted to do was rush down the hallway, swords swinging. But she didn’t want her rashness to endanger her companions.

“Too late now, lass,” Lorifal said, striding past her and hefting his gigantic axe. “My blood’s up.”

Feyden shrugged. “You know what that means. That’s an enormous stone that, once rolling, cannot be stopped.”

Lorifal gave him a black look, uncertain if he was being complimented or insulted. He decided to accept the compliment.

“Indeed,” he said over his shoulder.

The light from the sole torch by the entrance slowly disappeared as they made their way down the corridor. Lorifal went first because his dwarven eyes, used to living underground, saw almost as well as the vampyres in the dark. Raine was right behind him, and she sheathed her swords and redrew her bow with the same snapping movement. She notched an arrow and kept it poised above Lorifal’s head, exploiting the tactical advantage of the difference in their heights. Lorifal’s gait changed ever-so-slightly and Raine loosed the arrow down the corridor. There was a cry in the darkness and Raine fired a second just to make sure. When they reached the right turn of the corridor, there was a pile of black ash against the wall.

“Nicely done,” Lorifal said, and they continued on.

They had moved only a short way down the second hallway when a slight odor, a sulfuric scent caught Raine’s attention and the hair on the back of her neck stood erect.

“Get behind me,” she whispered, forcefully pulling the stout dwarf to her rear. It was none too soon, for a blast of freezing cold came down the hallway upon them, frigid enough to freeze them solid. But it was not actual cold, but rather magical energy, and Raine had a gift that no one else in Arianthem had: a total immunity to magic. The cold flowed around her body, funneling around the small troupe that crouched in her wake. Lorifal caught the edges of it as, even sideways, he was a bit wider than Raine. But he was most suited for the assault due to his dwarven heritage and heavy armor, and it had little effect. Feyden and the Tavinter were safely behind him.

Raine again loosed several arrows rapid-fire into the darkness, and again there was a cry, a curse, some gurgling, and then silence. She turned to assess her comrades, and everyone appeared fine, although the Tavinter were a bit wide-eyed at the feat. Feyden, who was used to the extraordinary deeds of his friend, was taciturn.

“That looks uncomfortable.”

Raine glanced down at the ice that caked her leather armor. “It is a bit unpleasant.”

Lorifal hit Raine with the flat of his ax, which staggered her slightly and caused the ice to crack and fall to the ground. Torsten winced at the blow.

“Thank you,” she said sarcastically, and Feyden grinned.

There were several rooms off this current corridor, but they were empty. Some were in disarray and bore signs that the occupants had recently fled. Candles still burned and half-eaten meals were on the tables. Lorifal wrinkled his nose at the bloody meat on the plates. He was going to enjoy killing these monsters. One room housed several cowering wood elves, and they could not believe they were being rescued.

“Follow this corridor to the entrance,” Raine directed. “It turns twice, but does not fork. Keep running until you get to the forest.”

They were in ill-condition, but not so ill they could not flee. They staggered away, feeling their way down the stone walls in the dim light. Raine watched them for a moment, then started back down the corridor, now in the lead. The hallway was beginning to widen and faint light seeped towards them.

“Prepare yourselves,” she warned.

The corridor emptied into a main hall, perhaps a place of dining when the garrison was still under imperial command. It had high ceilings, was flanked by two balconies, and seemed to disappear at the far end of the room where the pillars had collapsed and the floor buckled into a black pit. It looked empty, but it most assuredly was not.

“Torsten, you and yours will guard this door. When the fight begins, light the torches. Cut down everything that tries to flee. Feyden, you and Lorifal will take that right balcony, I will take the left.”

The three began creeping through the dim light, and Raine had the sensation of being watched by a multitude of eyes. She re-folded her bow and drew her double short swords. This fighting was going to be very close quarters.

“Attack!”

This signal was more of screech than a yell, and it would have caused even the hardiest to tremble had not these three faced far worse. They were surrounded, then smothered, as creatures flew at them from all sides. Lorifal and Feyden fought back-to-back, and Raine turned into a whirling funnel of death so that she killed on all sides. The room burst into light as the Tavinter lit the torches and absorbed their own frontal attack, using daggers and short swords much like Raine’s. The monstrosities fell in great number but were replaced without end. The blue and gold markings of the Scinterian stood out in bold relief on Raine’s skin, an ancient testimony to supernatural skill, and the air around her was so thick with ash, it was difficult to breathe. She leaped to the balcony railing, then down to the hall below, landing on the table in the center of the room. The creatures followed her and continued to meet death at the edge of her blade, and soon that air was fouled as well. She made her way down the table, her footwork flawless on the uneven surface, and so many of the monsters had fallen their numbers began to look manageable.

And then she was hit by a brick wall. Something that struck her with such force it not only propelled her from the table but slammed her against the stone wall where she was pinned. Raine gazed at a spectre of beautiful death. It was a woman, her head hooded but her features visible as they were face-to-face. She was both angry and pleased, possibly even slightly aroused by the lethal individual she had pinned.

“It’s about time,” Raine said sarcastically. She braced her foot against the wall behind her, then shoved forward with all her might, now propelling her assailant backwards and slamming her against the opposing wall with just as much force as had been used on her.

“You do live up to your billing,” the vampyr said, and shoved Raine backward so that she tumbled over the table yet still managed to land on her feet. The vampyr drew two daggers and Raine became acutely aware that she was unarmed: both her swords and bow had gone flying when the creature had tackled her. But she was rarely without a back-up weapon and she, too, drew double daggers. The vampyr leaped at her and the daggers became a blur as every blow was blocked, parried, countered at a speed which mortals only dare dream. The fight was so furious they cleared a large area around them, which Raine realized was a very bad thing. All of the vampyres who had concentrated on her were now free to attack the others. And although the Tavinter were holding their own, Raine did not know how long that was going to last. She glanced up at Feyden and Lorifal, who were also now overwhelmed with additional combatants.

The vampyr, too, noted the change in the battle and sought to take advantage of Raine’s momentary inattention. She dove in for a strike, which Raine parried, but her goal was not for the blow to land but rather to put Raine at the edge of the dark pit at the end of the room. She kicked Raine’s feet out from under her and Raine grasped the front of her cloak so they both tumbled into the blackness below.

“Raine!” Feyden called out, having caught sight of the plight of his friend. He snatched a torch from a nearby sconce and hurled it toward the pit where it disappeared into the gaping hole. The action cost him, however, as a vampyr latched onto his arm, biting clear through his leather armor. The bite did not last long because a great axe came swinging through and decapitated the head that was biting.

Lorifal watched Feyden anxiously, hoping that Elyara’s enchantments would hold.

Feyden assessed himself with the same anxiety. But other than the physical pain of the bite, he felt nothing.

“I’m fine,” Feyden said, and punctuated the remark with a slice of his sword that severed the arm of a nearby attacker.

“The Divine bless Elyara,” Lorifal said, “but don’t let it happen again.”

Feyden took Lorifal’s mock warning seriously. The enchantment held with a single bite, but who knew what would happen with multiple wounds? And as he glanced down at the Tavinter, that thought became worrisome indeed, for the vampyres had managed to roust them from their fortified position at the door and now had them surrounded in the middle of the room.

Raine was grateful to see the torch tumbling end-over-end into the pit. When it landed, she could see the spiraling staircase that hugged the walls of the circular descent, the one that neither she nor the vampyr had bothered to use in their free-fall. Any thoughts of rushing to the stairs disappeared as the vampyr came out of the darkness and tackled her, taking her to the ground. Raine struggled as the vampyr straddled her and sought to pin her, still stabbing at her with a single dagger. The dagger finally landed, slicing Raine across the throat in a superficial blow.

The vampyr stopped instantly, her grip on Raine unrelenting but her attention now fixated on the wound that seeped blood. The sensations the smell of the blood aroused in her were so overpowering, if she thought she could successfully rape the woman beneath her, then feed upon her, or perhaps accomplish both at the same time, she would do so without hesitation. She gazed at the creature below her with growing suspicion.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Yes,” Raine said calmly, “I did.”

With enormous strength, Raine flipped the vampyr onto her back and their positions were reversed. She used the length of her body to restrain the vampyr while she pinned her arms to the stone floor. The dominant position merely seemed to amuse the vampyr, as if she were enjoying it.

“We seem to be at an impasse.”

It was a true statement, and a troublesome one. Although she had the upper hand here below, Raine did not think the same thing was true for her comrades up above.

It was not. One of the Tavinter had already fallen, too wounded to continue. He was protected by his Tavinter brethren who had formed a shrinking circle around him. Up above, Feyden and Lorifal were pressed tightly together, back-to-back, still pushing against the encroaching horde. When they lost the protective support of the Tavinter arrows, their battle had turned for the worst.

Torsten looked about him solemnly, thinking that all was lost and wondering how even Raine could survive this onslaught. He barely blocked an incoming blow, and was forced to crouch when another wave of freezing cold magical energy came toward them.

And then the frigid air was met with a blast of fire. Torsten was thankful that both he and his companions had ducked because the flame was so fierce it incinerated everything in its path, causing many of the young vampyres to disappear into ash and the older to fall to the ground writhing in pain. A mammoth sword, one bone-white, as long as a man was tall and as wide as man’s shoulders, sliced through the throng like butter, cleaving vampyres in two in its great arc. The sword came back around with a second great arc, taking out any so foolish as to be standing in range. And then it was raised overhead and came slamming down with such force that all staggered and most fell to their knees, and Torsten was afraid the stone walls might begin tumbling down around their heads.

Down in the pit below, Raine smiled. “I believe that’s the solution to our impasse.”

Torsten stared at a most stunning and welcome sight. A gorgeous woman, silver-haired and amber-eyed, clothed in form-fitting fiery red scaled armor, stood in the entryway, and it was she who wielded the enormous sword.

“Oh thank the gods,” Lorifal exclaimed, and immediately took advantage of the shock of the woman’s arrival and swung his great axe.

The Tavinter also rallied, for they now had an ally without equal. The great sword thrust forward and impaled four vampyres on its extent, and as it withdrew, the jagged edges causing as much damage on exit as entry, the four vanished into a cloud of black dust. In very short order, the woman demolished the vampyres remaining on the lower level, then casually moved up the stairs to where she destroyed a dozen more. Lorifal roared his approval and smashed the skull of a fallen vampyr while Feyden more quietly took the lives of two others. Finally, the last of the monstrosities vanished into a black cloud of ash, and the dark dust slowly settled onto the floor, inches deep.

Feyden was winded and took a deep breath, composing himself. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing deeply.

“Feyden,” Talan said with stately grace, not winded at all.

Lorifal was less formal, his eyes glued to the magnificent sword.

“By the gods that is a piece of weaponry!”

Talan changed hands on the sword and placed it tip down, extending the hilt of it to Lorifal. The sword was so sharp the tip dug into the stone and so large that in its vertical state, Lorifal had to reach up to grasp the hilt. He staggered at the weight and could barely prop it up.

“I don’t think I could even lift this,” he said with admiration, “let alone wield it.”

“It was made from the bones of my son’s father,” Talan said, removing the burden from the dwarf and carelessly slinging it back over her shoulder. “And where is my love?”

Feyden started. He had forgotten all about Raine with Talan’s dramatic entrance. “She is down in that pit!”

“I’m sure she is fine,” Talan said, starting back down the stairs at an unhurried pace. She trod through black ash down the hall toward the pit, followed by the others. Feyden grasped another torch, as did Torsten.

Talan was only halfway down the stairs when the sight of her lover straddling and pinning a beautiful vampyr came into view.

“Is there something going on down here?” she said drily.

“You know that there is not,” Raine said, her eyes still on her captive who gazed at her with malice.

“I thought you were going to wait for me,” Talan said, slightly scolding.

“That was the plan, then things got out of hand.”

“You seem to have them well in hand at the moment.”

Raine sighed. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to do.”

Talan stopped on the stairs, assured that her young lover was indeed fine, then shifted her great sword to her other shoulder. “Then I will leave you to your business,” she said, starting back of the stairs, “it will serve no purpose if I kill her from jealousy.”

Raine stared down at the woman she held, the muscles in her arms corded with the tension of restraining her. The vampyr made a rude noise.