The Sorcerer's Scourge (8 page)

“And I have spent the better part of the evening trying to convince Captain Bertrand that this is no simple attack by desperate men and is far more than he and his men are prepared to deal with, hence my coming to see you last night, Prelate,” Collin replied, which elicited a sour glare from the watch captain.

“I am a little sketchy on the details,” the Prelate said. “Please explain them once more for myself and the Solarian’s Light.”

Captain Bertrand took a step forward, cutting off the inspector. “A group of men snuck into Lord Henrick’s mansion and attacked the assembled nobles. It is my theory that Lord Henrick ran afoul of a powerful and audacious criminal element. This was obviously an act of retribution of some kind seeing as how it appears that nothing was stolen nor any of the wealthy attendees robbed of coin or valuables.”

The Chief Inspector let out a breath of forced patience. He was a thin man and not much taller than the squat captain, but he held himself like a man of cunning and confidence. He pulled out a sheaf of papers with notes neatly written with a charcoal stylus.

“Shortly after King Jarvin and the Prelate left Lord Henrick’s estate, two men and three women attacked the partygoers with their bare hands. Several witnesses attest to the fact that the attackers moved with inhuman speed and strength. A few claim to have seen one or two of them stabbed through the chest with a sword or dagger without any discernible harm.”

“Hysterical nonsense obviously,” Captain Bertrand scoffed.

“As you can see, the victims show wounds that look as though they have been mauled by bears or enormous cats.” The inspector shuffled through his notes. “There may have been three men involved, not just the two.”

“How is that, inspector?” Samone asked.

“A few witnesses state they were led outside by a man in a gold mask stylized in the image of a lark. He first appeared to be leading them to safety, but just as they reached a side gate, one of the assailants dropped out of nowhere, called him by name, and then killed the woman he seemed to be with,” Collin explained.

“Did any of them recall the name he used?”

Collin looked under the top page of his notes and answered. “There are a few variances but the most likely is Landrin.”

Samone asked, “Do any of you know anyone named Landrin?”

Captain Bertrand spoke up. “It’s not a common name but not unheard of. A city the size of Brightridge is bound to have a dozen or two men by that name.”

Samone and the cleric, Brother Charles, began inspecting the bodies, making particularly close inspections of what appeared to be bite wounds. Samone looked at the mass of bodies and turned back to the inspector.

“Are these all of the victims?”

“Yes, twenty-six of the wealthiest, most influential citizens in Brightridge,” he answered in disgust.

“It has to be vampires. What do you think, Charles?” the paladin asked the cleric.

“I would say there is little doubt.”

“I do not know much about such things,” Collin said, “but that was my guess, considering the reports I have been hearing. That is why I asked the Prelate to contact you.”

Samone nodded. “Very good thinking, Inspector. There are too many bodies and the attack was far too conspicuous to have been a simple feeding. You say the King was there, Prelate?”

“Yes. He was weary so I escorted him to the castle early.”

“Is he still in the city?”

The acting duke shook his head. “No. He wished to return to Brelland as soon as possible and I felt no reason to inform him of what transpired. He and his people departed early this morning. Paladin Samone, have you encountered this level of undead in your recent duties?”

“No, Prelate. Nearly all of the undead we have encountered have been relatively weak and mindless. The worst has been a few shades or specters, but nothing as powerful as vampires.”

The Prelate looked crestfallen at the implication. “Then it is safe to assume the situation is getting worse.”

“I fear that is so, Prelate.”

“I will need to inform Bishop Caalendor. Paladin Samone, I need you and your people to find these murderous abominations and destroy them.”

Samone ducked her head. “Solarian’s will be done.”

CHAPTER
3

Azerick was busy in the large underground laboratory he had constructed beneath the new tower. It was by far the largest room, but only one of several underground chambers and passages running beneath the two towers and several of the surrounding buildings. He was just fitting the shoulder guard of the steel golem in place when he heard the shouting.

Thinking he may need to intervene, Azerick stopped what he was doing and went to investigate. He barely reached the top of the stairs when Agnes, his head cook, confronted him.

“Master Azerick,” the older woman practically shrieked, “you must do something about that gluttonous beast!”

“Is Sandy filching hams again?” Azerick asked.

Agnes waved a hand dismissively. “The dragon I can tolerate. At least she has manners. I mean that disgusting demon child, Wolf! They are in the meat cellar again.”

Azerick went into the kitchen, conjured a light, and headed down the creaky wooden steps. He found the source of Agnes’s distress sprawled out on the stone floor of the chilly room. Sandy lay on her side with the end of a large ham bone sticking out of her mouth. Wolf was on his back clutching a half-eaten sausage in one hand and his stomach in the other.

“Oh, I think I’m going to be sick,” Wolf moaned.

“I told you I could eat more,” Sandy said heavily after spitting the bone out of her mouth.

Wolf glared at the dragon. “You only ate five times as much as me and you weigh ten times what I do. That means I ate more.”

“The bet was raw volume, not by scale in accordance with each other’s mass, so you lose. Next time, do make such foolish wagers.”

“What do you two think you are doing?” Azerick demanded, trying to sound cross but failing to hide the laughter in his voice.

“Eating contest,” the half-elf and dragon said in unison.

“It looks like you two have eaten an entire week’s food in a single sitting.”

“I ate a week’s worth. Wolf maybe had two, three days worth—tops,” Sandy answered in a moan.

“You’re huge. It wasn’t a fair contest,” Wolf moaned.

“Not fair is the motto of the loser.” Sandy fixed an eye on Wolf. “Loser.”

Wolf threw his half-eaten sausage at the small dragon and laughed as it bounced off her head.

 “People all over the kingdom are hungry right now and you two are wasting food,” Azerick lectured. “Now get out of here and do not ever have another eating contest unless you hunt down your own food.”

“You can count on that. I probably won’t be able to eat for—hours,” Wolf said as he and Sandy rolled onto their feet and started up the stairs.

“Sandy,” Azerick called up to the departing dragon, “you need to exercise more. You are getting fat.”

Sandy’s mouth dropped open in indignation. “I am not getting fat! That is muscle. We sand dragons are naturally stocky and strongly built.”

“Well, your stomach muscle is nearly scraping the steps,” Azerick pointed out.

Wolf started laughing so hard he let out an enormous belch, which made him laugh even harder.

“Laugh all you want. Not all of us can be skinny little elves. Something for which I am eternally grateful. Uh oh.”

Wolf wiped the laughter-induced tears from his face. “What?”

“I’m stuck in the doorway,” Sandy replied sheepishly. “Stop laughing! Obviously the moisture of the cellar caused the wood frame to expand!”

“Yeah right! And maybe the moisture caused your belly to expand too!” Wolf barked out in uncontrollable hilarity.

“Shut up and give me a push!” Sandy demanded.

Still shaking with laughter, Wolf put his back against the dragon’s wide rump and pushed with his legs. Sandy wriggled from side to side trying to squeeze through but only wedged herself more firmly.

“Stop holding your breath!” Wolf ordered.

Sandy let out the pent up air in her lungs and released a belch several times the volume of Wolf’s. It worked and Sandy popped through the door and into the kitchen.

“See, I’m not fat. It was just gas from all that food,” Sandy said.

“I’m just glad it came out in a burp or you might have blasted me down the stairs!” Wolf said and roared with laughter once again.

Sandy gasped in indignation. “Dragons do not—do that!”

Azerick listened to the pair laughing and arguing across the grounds as they left the tower and headed towards the woods, likely to sleep off their over-indulgence. All he could do was shake his head and wonder if life had been less complicated when he was just battling demons and fighting armies.

“I swear, those two get into more trouble than every child in this place,” Agnes told Azerick as he emerged from the cellar.

“They are quite a pair. Speaking of troublesome children, I have hardly seen my apprentice in a couple days.”

Ellyssa and Roger were in her room, examining the results of her latest work. Numerous runes and sigils scrawled in different colored chalk adorned nearly every surface of the large wardrobe.

“Is this amazing or what?” Ellyssa asked her best friend, Roger.”

“It is interesting,” Roger replied uncertainly. “Are you sure it will work?”

Ellyssa scoffed. “Of course it will work! It’s simple. I applied the same runes on the inside of the wardrobe in our applied magic class. All I have to do is activate them, step inside, and pop out of the one in class. No more walking these stupid stairs. It is genius.”

“Where did you learn how to do this?”

“You know that big book Azerick is always looking at and told me to stay away from?”

“Yeah,” Roger said slowly with a mounting feeling of dread.

“In there.”

“Ellyssa, there is a reason he does not want you reading that book.”

“Yeah, because it has all kinds of great stuff in it.”

“No,” Roger said in exasperation, “because it is full of magic way beyond our level and is really dangerous! You are messing with transdemensional magic here!”

Ellyssa snorted and dismissed his worrying with a wave of her hand. “This is nothing more than a fixed version the gate spell Azerick uses all the time—sort of. It’s no big deal.”

“Azerick is also probably one of the most powerful spell casters in the kingdom!”

“I really doubt that. I’m sure Allister and Aggie know a lot more.”

“Well, he’s probably one of the scariest,” Roger amended as he studied a rune more closely. “Are you sure this one is right?”

Ellyssa looked at the rune in question. “Of course it is. That’s the sigil for the astral plane. It’s what makes the whole thing work.”

 “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure these squiggly lines are supposed be vertical for the astral plane, not horizontal.”