Sovereign

CHAPTER 27

Lynan rode both his horses into the ground. The first fell when he was less than halfway to his destination, collapsing under him. He tumbled to the ground and lay there dazed, for how long he did not know. When he finally got to his feet he found the stricken mare trying to lift its head above the grass; one of its legs was broken.

'I'm sorry,' Lynan muttered, and cut its throat. He took the saddle off the dead mare and put it on the survivor, cropping grass nearby.

He restrained his own impatience and forced himself to allow the second mare to take more frequent and longer breaks, sometimes even allowing himself to catch snatches of sleep, but by the end of the fourth day it was still too much for the animal. Within sight of the Forest of Silona it simply stopped. Lynan dismounted, and as if this was the signal for release it needed, the horse sank to its knees, lay down and simply stopped breathing.

It was early evening. Clouds covered most of the sky and there was little light. The land seemed grey and empty. Ahead, perhaps fifteen leagues away, was the forest, the focus of all his fear and desire. He started walking.

Near midnight he stopped. He was at the centre of a crest that ran along the western border of a broad valley.

He looked eastwards over the valley and saw the dark, undulating peace of it and was brought to tears. He wiped them away, surprised by the reaction, ashamed he could cry for himself like this, but despite everything that had happened to him he recognised at that moment a part of himself he had not touched since he had been given the vampire's blood, a part that was not interested in fighting or conquest or proving himself, a part of himself that yearned to be nothing more than alive and at rest.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, he ordered, and used his eyesight to study the valley more carefully. Now he recognised it. The Arran Valley, where the mercenary Jes Prado had first caught him all those seasons ago. This was no place of peace. There was no such place anywhere on Theare any more. He turned his back on it and resumed walking towards the forest.

He reached the first scattered stands of summer trees after dawn, their brown leaves already dropping. The clouds had gone overnight and sunlight scattered through the remaining canopy, warming his skin. He could hear the song of bird and insect. In the distance came the lowing of cows on one of the farms in the valley, now out of sight. As he continued walking, the summer trees were joined by wideoaks and then the headseeds, the largest of all the forest trees. The further into the forest he went, the less effect autumn seemed to have on the land. Leaves were still green and supple, the ground still warm and moist. Strangely, despite all the evidence of burgeoning life, there was no longer any sound of bird or insect. High above a breeze stirred the tops of the trees, but the sound of it did not reach the ground.

There was just a great silence, a great stillness. Expectation.

Lynan breathed deeply, closed his eyes and lay down on the ground. He had arrived, and now only had to wait for Silona to find him.

Jenrosa did not know how far ahead was Lynan, but by using her magik to extend the endurance of their mounts she and her escort of Red Hands drove deep into Chandra, resting little, swallowing the leagues. When they finally stopped for the day they all fell into a deep, recuperative sleep, again helped by Jenrosa's magik. Each morning, before light, they were off again, the land gliding by them as if they were at sea with nothing to slow their progress.

Jenrosa, not a natural rider, had to concentrate all the time on staying on her horse, a relief for her, for otherwise her mind would dwell on what would happen once she caught up with Lynan, or on the blank acceptance the Chetts seemed to have for her as their Truespeaker, something she knew with utter certainty she was not and never would be. No Truespeaker would do what I am about to do, she constantly reminded herself. The worst time was at night when they could not risk riding. Clouds scudded across the moon and stars, and every shape and every silhouette reminded Jenrosa of Silona. For all of that, she was far more afraid of Lynan.

Before sleep found her, in her mind's eye the universe seemed to fold and collapse onto one point in time, and each night that point came closer and closer. All her magik seemed to concentrate at that point, and beyond it there was no Lynan at all.

At noon on the fifth day, exhausted and bedraggled, the party could see the outskirts of the forest halfway between them and the horizon. Very quickly Chett scouts found Lynan's dead mare, already partly devoured by scavengers.

'And it was his last mount,' they told her. 'There was only one set of horse tracks.'

'And Lynan?'

'His foot tracks lead straight to the forest.'

'Then we have to hurry!' she cried urgently, and the troop started its last mad dash. Even Jenrosa's magik could not save all the horses this time, and many of the riders dropped behind. By the time the rest of them reached the forest's edge the sun was already down. They urged on their mounts, but they would go no further, some of them even rearing and toppling their riders rather than go under the canopy.

'Make camp here,' she told them. She dismounted, strapped on her sword and dagger, threw her saddlebags over her shoulder, and started walking deeper into the forest.

The Red Hands scrambled to catch up with her. 'What do you think you're doing?' she asked them.

'You are going to find the White Wolf,' said Sunatay, the troop commander, a middle-aged warrior who seemed to have more scar-tissue than skin. 'We will come with you.'

'Your job was to escort me here, and will be to escort Lynan and me back to Daavis,' she told her. 'You cannot come into the forest.'

'But you will be alone!' she said.

'I have to be alone,' Jenrosa said.

It was clear from the Chetts' faces that they did not understand.

'Do you know what lives in the forest?' she asked them.

'Something that wants to harm the White Wolf,' Sunatay said.

'What on earth can harm Lynan?'

The Red Hands looked at one another. It was clear that they did not know.

'Only one thing can,' she told them, 'and her name is Silona.'

The name passed among them like the lick of wind that comes before a storm. They recognised the name, and knew it was associated in some way with the White Wolf. Some of them took a step back from the forest. The fear that rose in them was atavistic, and even Jenrosa could feel it.

'She is so powerful a thousand Chetts could not help Lynan. Only magik can defeat this creature. My magik. You must stay here, rest the horses. I will return with the White Wolf as soon as I can. Wait five nights for us. If we have not returned in that time we will not be coming back at all. Do you understand?'

'Some of us should go with you,' Sunatay persisted. 'You might encounter something else in the forest besides Silona.'

And let you stop me doing what I have to do? Jenrosa thought. I have come too far for that.

'No beast lives in this forest. Stay here. You will only get in my way if you come with me.'

Sunatay looked unhappy, but nodded gruffly. 'Very well. Five nights. Then we come to find you.'

'Rest,' Jenrosa ordered them, and marched into the forest.

When she was out of sight, Sunatay beckoned to a man who looked as if he had seen as much combat as she.

'Rosof, you must take over the troop,' she told him.

'Where are you going?'

Sunatay screwed up her face. 'Where do you think?'

'You're going into the forest by yourself?'

'I will take two others. We will stay hidden from the Truespeaker. I do not want to disturb her magik.'

'Then why go at all?'

'Because it is our duty to protect the White Wolf. Maybe the Truespeaker is right, and we will be useless against Silona, but maybe she is wrong in this. Remember, our ancestors once destroyed all the vampires who lived around the Oceans of Grass. And Rosof, wait three nights, not five. If we are not all back by then, revenge us.'

Lynan had expected her to come on the first night.

He waited with a mix of anticipation and dread, constantly fighting the urge to run away, to make for naked land and clear sky. He lay on his back, staring at the dark canopy, his sword drawn. He listened for any sound that might warn him of her approach, starting every time a branch creaked. On more than one occasion he thought he heard the soft padding of footsteps, but when he sat up and looked around, there was nothing.

When the first fitful rays of dawn penetrated the canopy he felt elation, but that evaporated with the realisation he would have to endure a second night in the forest.

Or I could just leave, he told himself. I have done my duty. I came to the forest to slay Silona, but I cannot spend the rest of my life looking for her.

The argument did not work. He knew Silona would come to him eventually. She needed him even more than he desired her. Even if he ran to the furthest corner of Theare he believed she would follow him, in his dreams and in his insanity. There was no escape from her now.

If he had a choice at all any more, it was to force the issue. He stood up, looked around him. There was one part of the surrounding forest that seemed darker and even more foreboding than the rest, and he knew instinctively the heart of Silona's kingdom lay that way. He started walking. His footsteps were the only sound. [ Several hours later, when as far as he could tell the sun was at its highest, he stopped briefly. For less than a heartbeat the sound of footsteps did not. He pretended not to notice.

He resumed walking, keeping up a steady gait. At midafternoon he stopped suddenly. Again, a sound as if his footsteps had caused an echo. He knew it was not

Silona, who could not come out in daylight. Someone had followed him all the way from Daavis after all.

Ager? he wondered. No. The crookback was a wonderful rider, but his injuries meant he could not walk swiftly, and certainly not silently. Gudon, then.

Perhaps. Korigan? No. She would stay with the army.

Jenrosa?

Yes. It made sense. And yes, he realised then, it was she who had freed him from his insanity back in Daavis.

Only Jenrosa would have had that kind of power, and the fact that it had been Jenrosa who first gave him

Silona's blood gave her magik extra leverage. What had Silona said about Jenrosa? That she was the one he loved. He had denied it, and only now was beginning to understand how much of a lie that had been. He had told himself it was not true because she had chosen Kumul over him. Should he call out to her? Was she still afraid that he was mad? Or possessed, even?

Yes, time to end this particular game.

He turned swiftly on his heel, smiling broadly.

And saw a man.

He stood thirty or forty paces away, between the grey trunks of two headseeds, more silhouette than shape.

'I knew you heard my footsteps,' the man said.

There was something vaguely familiar about the voice. For that matter there was something vaguely familiar about the silhouette. Lynan's smile disappeared,

'How long have you been following me?'

The man moved, not towards Lynan but around him, as if there was an invisible wall between them.

'From the moment you entered the forest.'

'You were with me last night,' Lynan said, remembering the soft padding.

'I was watching you.' By now he was between Lynan and the deeper forest, and Lynan could see the figure was dressed in a short coat.

'Who are you?'

'I think you have come far enough, Lynan Rosetheme. Go back to your people.'

Lynan walked towards him. At first the figure retreated, but then stopped, legs apart, as if he would physically bar his way. As he drew closer, Lynan saw more detail. The man had long hair that rat-tailed over his shoulders, and he was wearing a coat that was too small for him; but the face was bowed slightly and he could not see it from the shadows.

'You have come far enough,' the man repeated. 'Go back. I would not hurt you.'

Lynan continued advancing. 'I have come this far to see a queen, I would not go back now.'

'The queen of the Dead,' the man laughed harshly. 'She is the one who does the visiting.'

Lynan drew his sword. 'Not any more.'

The man lifted his face, and Lynan stopped in his tracks.

'You knew me once,' the man said.

It was the smell that first hit Lynan. It rose like a vapour from the background of rotting humus. The face was familiar, but there was still too much shadow…

And then he realised it was not shadow at all.

'I know you still,' Lynan said, trying to keep his voice under control. He took a step backwards.

The man spread his coat. 'I still look after it for you.'

'Roheth,' he whispered pitiably. He remembered what the forester had been like when he had helped Lynan and his companions escape from Silona's grasp the first time they had met her: proud and strong and determined. By taking Lynan's coat, Roheth had wanted to throw the vampire off the travellers' scent.

'The ruse with the coat worked for two nights. Silona came back to my village, thinking you were still with us.'

'I'm sorry…'

'But she was driven, you see. She had sensed the Key of Power hanging around your neck.'

'I'm sorry…'

'And in the end nothing could save me.' Roheth stepped forward. A beam of light struck what was left of his cheek, showed the bone underneath. 'I paid the price of my hospitality.'

'You have become one of her hounds.'

Roheth laughed grimly. 'Oh yes. I herd her prey. I captured Belara once. Do you remember my wife?'

'Yes.'

'She is no more.' The voice was heavy with grief, but carried with it an obscene undercurrent of glee. 'And Mira, little Mira. Gone, too. And Seabe…'

'Stop.'

'But she still came after you, Lynan Rosetheme. Her mind had touched the Key and she wanted you.'

'I can revenge your wife, Roheth, and your daughter. And Seabe, too. I can revenge all of those she has killed.'

Roheth shook his head. His neck creaked. 'I am her hound. I serve her completely.'

'If that was so, you would have tried to kill me last night. You know what I intend.'

'Now, but not then. Silona does not want you dead. Not yet anyway. You only have two of the Keys. But I will not let you harm her. She is all that is left in this world that I can love and I will not let you hurt her. Turn back, Lynan Rosetheme, or I will kill you. This is your last warning.'

Lynan strengthened his grip on the sword. 'Flee, Roheth. I would not slay you.'

'I am already slain, you fool.'

Lynan swung with all his strength. The hound caught the blade in its left hand, cutting out a wedge of bone and rotten flesh, and yanked down. The sword was ripped out of Lynan's fingers. The creature's right hand shot out and punched Lynan in the neck. He fell back gasping, tripped over a root and landed heavily on his back. Before he could recover the hound was kneeling on his chest, its hands scrabbling around his throat. Lynan twisted from one side to the other. The hound rattled like a bag of bones but held on.

'I will eat you myself,' Roheth hissed, and his fingers squeezed harder.

Just as Lynan started blacking out he felt something hold unconsciousness at bay, and then push it back. It was the rage returned, redoubled in strength, and it filled him with liquid fire. His fingers found Roheth's head, felt the creature's skin slip loosely on the skull, grasped even tighter, and he twisted with all his strength. There was a crack and Roheth howled and fell back. Lynan kicked himself to his feet and retrieved his sword. The hound was squirming on the ground like a cut snake, its head snapping from side to side, its body jerking feebly.

Lynan roared and brought the sword down on the creature's neck. The head rolled away, the jaws snapping open and shut, its eyes rolling in their sockets. He brought the blade down again, and again, and again, splitting open the skull. Shards of white bone flew into the air, stung his cheeks. He struck until all the fire in him was out, extinguished, purified, and he clambered away from the slaughter he had made, stumbling deeper into the forest, the darkness closing about him.

Jenrosa tried to keep walking during the night, but she tripped over so many roots and rocks, banged her knees and head against so many branches, that in the end, exhausted, she simply gave up and slumped against a tree. She needed sleep, and knew it, but her fear for Lynan made her heart-sick and would not let her rest. She drew from the saddlebag a strip from one of Lynan's shirts, burned it, kept aside half the ashes and threw the remainder into the air. They drifted towards the centre of the forest. Then she cleared a space among the leaf litter and asked questions of the earth. Lynan was ahead of her, and although Silona was not yet with him something else was, a creature she did not recognise but which sent a shiver down her spine.

She closed her eyes and searched for the point beyond which there was no sign of Lynan, and it was imminent. Tonight, perhaps, tomorrow night at the latest. For a long time she had been afraid it meant Lynan's death, but now she was more afraid it meant something far worse: Lynan's complete surrender to Silona and his passing into that other existence.

She could not wait for dawn. She got to her feet again and started walking, keeping one arm above her head to ward off any branches. She still fell many times, cutting her hands and face. She stopped at first light to throw the remainder of the ashes, and following the direction they drifted then, came across his tracks. He was still alive, and still apart from Silona.

Encouraged and renewed, she picked up her pace, walking for many hours until she found the remains of some horrific struggle. Whatever it was—whatever it had been—had almost certainly been the creature she saw revealed in the earth magik. She remembered stories told by Roheth and the other foresters who had given her and Lynan refuge the first time they had travelled through Silona's domain, stories about her hounds, the humans Silona changed to hunt down food for her.

This is what she will turn Lynan into. The thought drove her on, recklessly. She would do anything to stop that from happening.

Silona had saved his life again, Lynan knew. The anger that had filled him in his struggle against Roheth had been hers, a rage fuelled by the knowledge that one of her own creatures would try and harm Lynan. But now she knew where he was and would come for him. He also knew she must now understand she had no choice but to kill him or change him forever, otherwise he would kill her. Why else, once free of her in Daavis, would he come to her domain?

'I will wait for you here,' he said aloud, knowing the forest would hear him. It was not yet dark, but he would go no further. He gathered together what dry leaves and wood he could find and started a fire. The warm flames raised his spirits somewhat, and the smoke disappearing through the canopy reminded him that there was a world outside the forest. He shrugged off his poncho and put it aside neatly. Then his sword belt and sheath, which he lay across the poncho. He needed no unnecessary encumbrances for this fight. He squatted in front of the fire, planted his sword in front of him, and waited.

Night came too soon. Jenrosa cursed, wept. She could no faster. Exhaustion was dragging her limbs, making her eyes cloudy, befuddling her mind. But she kept on, one foot after the other, each step taking her closer to Lynan. A breeze. The first she had felt since entering the forest. She stopped, one arm supporting her against a tree. The breeze was cool but smelled of decay. Her hair flurried around her face. A shadow passed overhead.

Laughter. The sound of it was like the point of a knife being scraped under her heart.

Jenrosa shrank back against the tree, curling down with her arms around her knees. She started saying prayers she had not uttered since she was a little girl. Her skin felt as if it had been shrunk around her face.

The shadow drifted north and west, and as soon as it had passed over her Jenrosa found she could stand again. She was ashamed of her cowardice.

It is time, she told herself. This is the only chance you have.

She started running as hard as she could, chasing the shadow.

Lynan felt her sweep over him. It was like a dark sheet being pulled over his mind. The light from the fire seemed to contract. The trees on the other side of the fire swayed violently, then were still.

'I know you're here,' he said into the night.

'Where else would I be, my love?' she replied. Hi tried tracking the voice, but it seemed to come from all around him.

'I am not your love. I am your enemy. I have been from the first time you touched me.'

'You are harsh. Look what I gave you.'

'You gave me madness.'

'I made you invulnerable.'

'You made me like you.'

'I made you my lover,' she said, and stepped forward into the light.

Lynan could not believe how beautiful she was. His desire for her flooded him anew. He looked away from her face to the huge, dark shapes that grew from her back.

'You still want me,' she said.

Yes, his mind said. 'No. Never.'

'You want to take me.'

Yes. He curled his fingers around the hilt of his sword.

'You want me for your wife, your queen.'

Yes. He stood slowly, as if held down by great weights.

'I have come to give myself to you. I surrender everything that I am to you. You can have my body, my heart. I will give you my soul.'

'I will take your body,' he said, lifting his sword, 'and drive this blade through your heart.'

Her wings came together in front of her with a mighty crack. A wall of air slammed into Lynan, throwing him to the ground and knocking the sword out of his hand; he scrabbled in the dirt for it. The light from the fire was blotted out and he looked up into the face of Silona. He screamed and kicked away from her.

'Here,' she said. 'Is this what you're looking for?' She kicked something on the ground, and his sword clattered next to him. He grabbed it and leaped to his feet, lunging forward. The blade sunk into her chest. Her mouth parted in surprise. He drove the blade in deeper. His face was only a hand's breadth from hers. Her eyes caught his, and suddenly she smiled. She grasped the sword around the blade and without any effort pulled it out, shook it free from Lynan's grasp and threw it over her shoulder. He heard it hit the fire, and sparks arced into the air.

'My heart is yours,' she said in a singsong voice. 'I will not let you cut it like that.'

He drew his dagger and struck at her face, but her hand closed around his wrist and twisted, snapping the bones. He screamed in pain, dropped the weapon.

'I want you to make love to me, Lynan Rosetheme.' Her other hand twisted around his hair and jerked his head towards hers. Her black tongue flickered between her lips. 'I want you to kiss me.'

She covered his mouth with her own. He pushed against her with his good hand but it was like pushing against a tree. Her tongue, sharp, siphoned, pricked into the soft flesh at the back of his throat, and he gagged as his own blood gushed down into his gullet. His mind started slipping into a dark, spinning vortex, and there was no way out.

It was the fire that had finally guided Jenrosa to Lynan. She had edged to the limit of the light and seen him squatting with his sword ready before him, waiting for Silona. She wanted to cry out to him, tell him it would not be enough, but fate had decided the course for both of them, and she could only save Lynan's life at the risk of losing his soul, and she would not do that.

She put down her saddlebag and retrieved the makings she needed for the magik. She looked longingly at the fire near Lynan, but it was too far away for her to work it properly. With flint and steel she started smoke in a collection of dry grass and a second strip from Lynan's shirt, and when she started silently reciting the chant a small flame curled into life. She could feel the power of the magik taking hold of her, but she had to restrain it until the right moment, when she could kill both Silona and Lynan at the same time. She did not imagine she could defend herself in time if she managed to slay only one and the other came after her.

Her concentration was destroyed by Silona's arrival. The forest itself seemed to move in welcome. The shock of it made Jenrosa forget her chant and her little fire started to wither. Desperately she restarted the magik as she heard Lynan and the vampire talking. Inside she wanted to hurry, to get it over with and flee, but she forced herself to say each word in the chant properly. Again she felt the magik build in her, and this time she would use it. She stood to make the final casting when suddenly Silona clapped her wings together and her fire was snuffed out as if it had been nothing more powerful than a candle flame. The magik in her evaporated and, suddenly empty, she fell to her knees. She heard fighting and looked to see Silona take Lynan's sword out of her chest and throw it away, then break his arm as he tried to stab the vampire with his dagger.

Jenrosa felt in the dark for the makings but they were scattered. She glanced back at the fireplace. She would have to use that now. Then she saw Silona place her mouth over Lynan's.

Too late! She was too late!

'No!' she cried and rushed forward, drawing her sword. When she was within ten paces she raised the blade high and aimed for the back of Lynan's head. One of Silona's yellow eyes snapped open, focused immediately on Jenrosa. The vampire screamed, pushed out one arm just as the blade fell.

Jenrosa felt her whole body jar as the blade bit deep into what felt like wood. Her shoulder wrenched and she lost her grip on the sword. She screamed and drew her dagger, stabbed towards Lynan's throat, but this time Silona lunged forward and swiped at the magiker in turn, driving into her chest.

Jenrosa flew through the air and landed on her back. She felt as if every rib in her chest had been broken. She tried to cry in pain but could only whimper. Silona discarded Lynan, dropping him like a rag doll, and advanced on her. She tried to move, but nothing seemed to work.

Three dark shapes leaped over her. She heard the war cry of the White Wolf and saw firelight flash off sabres. The vampire grunted like a pig and jumped back, her wings swishing in the air. The Chetts moved apart and advanced on Silona from the front and both sides. They darted in, flicked with their swords, darted back again. Jenrosa could hear the wooden sound of their blades biting into Silona's flesh, and the vampire's growling in response. One of them dallied too long. Jenrosa saw a long arm ending in claws sweep out so quickly it was a blur. It struck one of the Chetts across the head, ripping it clean off. The body collapsed under a spray of hissing blood.

Again Jenrosa tried to move. She managed to pull her feet under her. With the help of her hands she raised herself to a kneeling position. The pain in her chest felt like a dozen knives impaling her. She moaned, stood up, looked around for a weapon. A scream. Another dead Chett.

Her sword was by the fire. She stooped to pick it up, found it almost impossible to stand again. The last Chett was dancing in and out of the vampire's range. It was Sunatay. God, she's good, Jenrosa thought, hope rising in her. If only she could get around behind the vampire.

She stopped herself. She was a magiker, not a warrior. She turned back to the fire. It was close enough. It was bright enough. She dropped to her knees in relief and started chanting.

Lynan coughed himself awake. He turned over and vomited blood. Fighting. He got himself to his haunches and looked up. Jenrosa! She was on her knees on the other side of the fire, chanting. Then who was fighting? He looked around, saw Silona hopping like a deranged bird, pecking, swiping at a small, lithe figure who wielded a sabre the way Kumul used to wield a long sword.

Sunatay, he remembered. How did she get here? How did Jenrosa get here?

Then he saw the corpses of the two dead Chetts. His side was losing.

He pushed back with his hands, cried in sudden pain as his right wrist gave way. He used his left hand to sit back. He remembered now. Silona had broken his wrist, snapped the bones in two.

But no, the bones were knitted already.

He managed to raise himself to a crouch. He spat more blood out of his mouth as he looked around for his sword. He could not see it anywhere. There was a sword near Jenrosa. Hers, he assumed. That would have to do. He tried to stand up, but as he did Jenrosa's chant seemed to swell in volume and the sound of it was like a terrible weight on his shoulders. He could not move.

'Jenrosa!' he cried. 'You're stopping me from moving!'

She did not answer, but she met his gaze and held it. He saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

Silona yowled. He looked around and saw that she was hardly moving. Sunatay was moving in closer, aiming her blows more carefully.

The rhythm of Jenrosa's chant picked up. Something stabbed him in the heart. The breath whooshed out of him; he tried to suck more in but his lungs would not work. Again his heart spasmed in pain. He was back to his knees and he could see Silona was struggling, too, and Sunatay's blows were becoming heavier, deeper.

'Why?' he asked Jenrosa, turning back to her.

But still she did not reply. He tried to find an answer in her eyes, but all he saw there was pity. He collapsed, falling sideways onto the ground. The fire blazed in front of him and he saw in its flames two twisting figures which he recognised as himself and Silona. The flames moved to the rhythm of Jenrosa's chant. She was using her magik to kill both of them.

An inhuman roar behind him. The sound of Sunatay's blade sinking deep into the vampire's flesh, like an axe in wood, and sticking. Another inhuman roar. The sound of her wings sweeping through the air. Sunatay screaming.

The fire seemed to dim, the figures in it to blur. Almost immediately he felt his lungs start to pump air back in and the pain in his chest disappeared. He pulled himself up. Jenrosa was mumbling, trying to recapture the chant.

But too late.

There was a beat of wings and Silona landed right behind the magiker, her face twisted in terrible fury, any semblance of beauty lost in her hatred and rage.

That was me, Lynan remembered. Back in Daavis, that was me.

'Jenrosa, move!' he cried, but his voice was nothing more than a croak. 'Behind you!'

But too late.

Silona raised one clawed hand and brought it down against Jenrosa's back. Lynan watched, paralysed, as Jenrosa jerked forward, her mouth gaping, her eyes open in astonishment. The vampire drew back, the hand covered in gore, and Jenrosa pitched forward onto her face.

Lynan screamed. He lifted himself to his feet but fell straightaway. He could hear Silona panting, trying to get her own strength back. He moved forward on all fours to reach Jenrosa, saw the bloody mess that was her back. He started crying, could not stop it, tried to say her name. His right hand burned. He looked down and saw it was resting on the hilt of his sword, its blade deep into the fire.

And he remembered. In the middle of his insanity Silona had told him that all the others like her were slain by iron and fire.

He gripped the hilt, ignoring the pain, and used the sword to help him stand. Silona was already on her feet, her great wings stretching out behind her.

'So we start again,' she said to him. She noticed the sword. 'You learn your lessons very hard.' She smiled cruelly at him, took a step forward, over the body of Jenrosa.

Lynan lunged, driving the blade deep, deep into her body, twisting the hilt as he did so.

Silona leaped into the air, screaming, taking the sword with her. Black blood sprayed into the fire sending clouds of putrid steam into the night air. She tried to beat her wings but they would not work and she plummeted back to earth, landing on her back. She squirmed and grasped the blade with both hands. Smoke came from her fingers. She let go, wailing. Lynan went to her, took the hilt and twisted it again. Silona kicked away, crying, begging, her face that of a beautiful woman again.

'Lynan, my love, no, help me, Lynan, my love…'

He pulled out the sword and drove it into her neck. She jerked up on her shoulders, slumped. Her mouth opened one more time and said a word Lynan did not understand. The air around them funnelled into the sky. Lynan felt his clothes and hair whip around him, and the vampire's wings flapped uselessly.

Then all was still.

Lynan went to Jenrosa, gently turned her over. She was gasping for breath. Blood speckled her lips.

'I was wrong,' she wheezed.

'Don't talk,' he said.

She grabbed his arms. Her eyes were bulging, staring at his face. 'I was wrong. I am the end point. Not you. I thought I had to kill you. I thought that was my destiny.'

Lynan was crying again. 'Please, Jenrosa, don't talk. Stay with me. Don't go.'

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'm so sorry.'

Lynan put her down gently, took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. 'Don't leave me, Jenrosa. I love you.'

Her body arched in pain.

'What can I do?' he asked her, his voice pleading. 'Can I help you do magik?'

'Nothing,' she said. 'I understand now. There is no Jenrosa after tonight. That is why it was all dark. I thought the blood was your cruelty, your madness, but it was my future. The whole time it was my blood.'

'Blood,' Lynan repeated. 'God.' He scrabbled over to the vampire's corpse and dipped his hand in the wound in her chest. He brought it out, his fingers dripping with her black gore. He returned to Jenrosa. 'Here,' he said, lifting her head.

'No!' she cried and frantically slapped his hand away. 'No!'

'It will save you!' Lynan cried. 'You will be like me!'

She twisted pathetically away from him. When he tried to hold her she grabbed his bloody hand and forced it down with all her strength and said into his face: 'I would rather be dead than be like you!'

Lynan reeled back.

'Please,' she whimpered. 'Please.'

He nodded, and she let him come to her again. He lifted her into his arms and cradled her, rocking back and forth.

'I love you,' he told her again.

'I know,' she said, then closed her eyes and died.