Thieves of Blood

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Tresslar touched his wand to the containment ring’s column, and the metal-painted black, of course-began to glow bluish-green. He could feel the vibrations as his device began absorbing the spells that other artificers had woven into the internal structure of both the column and the ring affixed on top of it. He didn’t expect the process to take long. He’d already taken care of the elemental on the other ship without any difficulty. The spells the artificers had used, while serviceable, were crude and simplistic and presented no challenge to him. As the ships had been left unguarded, he’d faced no resistance.

Tresslar sighed. Forty years he’d been on Dreadhold, and if the spellwork he’d seen so far was any indication, artificers had become sloppy since he’d chosen to absent himself from the world. Perhaps the erosion of magical standards was an inevitable result of the Last War, when too many artificers had been forced to do rushwork out of necessity, but the war was over now, and there were no longer any excuses for such shoddy craftsmanship as far as Tresslar was concerned.

After a few moments, the greenish-blue glow where the golden dragonhead touched the column subsided, and it was done-no flash of light, no crackle of discharged energy. Tresslar preferred to avoid showiness in his work whenever possible. Restrained elegance was the hallmark of a true master of spellcraft, though in truth he couldn’t take full credit for his wand’s performance. He’d discovered the golden dragon’s head during a voyage to Trebaz Sinara with Erdis Cai. The uninhabited island held many wonders and even more mysteries, and the origin of the dragon’s head as well as its intended purpose was one of the latter. Tresslar had understood the dragonhead’s power well enough to use it to create his spell-absorbing wand, but he didn’t fully fathom the artifact’s nature-not that he’d ever admit it to anyone.

His task was complete. Two of the Black Fleet’s three galleons no longer possessed air elementals to fill their sails. With nothing else to do, he supposed he should disembark this vessel and board the ship he’d spared and wait for the others to finish their work.

Yet…

Tresslar turned and looked toward the open entrance to Grimwall. It had been four decades since he’d set foot inside, over half his lifetime. He knew it wasn’t the same place that he remembered from his youth and that terrible things walked its corridors now. Still, he felt a powerful urge to walk down the ship’s gangplank and head across the dock to the entrance and go inside. More than simple nostalgia, it was almost a compulsion, but he really didn’t want to simply revisit Grimwall, did he?

What he really wanted-what he needed-was to see Erdis again. Perhaps Tresslar wanted to see if any trace of the great explorer he’d once revered remained inside the undead creature that now ruled Grimwall. Perhaps, as Diran suggested, Tresslar had been afraid for too long, and it was time that he faced that fear, looked it straight in the eyes, for better or worse.

Tresslar continued standing and gazing at Grimwall’s entrance for several more moments before finally reaching a decision. Gripping his dragonwand tight, he headed for the gangplank.

Yvka and Hinto moved down the corridor with silent ease. Both of them possessed excellent night vision as well as nonhuman dexterity and grace, though Yvka might have made somewhat better time if she hadn’t needed to shorten the length of her stride so the halfling could keep up. The greenfire torches which lit the corridor provided enough illumination to make it seem bright as day to elven and halfling eyes, and from what they could see, Grimwall-at least this section of it-was deserted. Whatever the grisly nature of the rite Erdis Cai was preparing to conduct this night, it appeared his people were in attendance as well. All to the better; it would make Hinto’s and her task much easier.

The corridor they traveled curved slowly to the left, and Yvka saw that she’d allowed herself to become overconfident. Two male guards dressed in the familiar garb of the Black Raiders stood in front of a larger wrought-iron gate with burning braziers of greenfire mounted on either side. Despite the guards’ bald heads and false vampire teeth, Yvka knew they were human, or at least she hoped so, and that meant there was a chance they hadn’t spotted Hinto or her in the corridor’s gloom. She stopped and crouched down, putting one hand on Hinto’s shoulder to stop him and another over his mouth to prevent him from making any noise. Hinto must’ve already seen the guards, for he nodded, showing no surprise at Yvka’s actions.

The elf-woman removed her hand from the halfling’s mouth and motioned for him to retreat a bit down the corridor. He nodded again, turned, and moved off without a sound. Yvka followed, equally as silent. When they’d put a few dozen extra yards between themselves and the raiders, and the curve of the corridor wall hid them from view, Yvka caught up to Hinto and motioned for him to stop. The elf-woman knelt next to the halfling and whispered close to his ear.

“That looks like one of the storage areas Tresslar described,” she said.

“Maybe,” Hinto replied, “but that doesn’t mean it’s the place the raiders keep the prisoners.”

“True, but if it was merely a storage area for supplies and such, why would they guard it, especially this night, when they’ve left so much of the rest of Grimwall unguarded?”

“Good point. What do we do now?”

Yvka thought for a moment. She still had a few tricks in the leather pouch dangling from her belt, provided by the ever-inventive and oh-so-devious wizards and artificers employed by the Shadow Network, but she wasn’t certain any of her toys would prove useful in this situation. Then again, sometimes the simple ways were the best.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”

The halfling walked down the corridor toward the two guards, weaving with an unsteady gait. At first neither noticed him in the dim light, but as he drew closer, one of the guards whirled around to stare at the halfling.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” the man shouted, sounding more bemused than angry.

The halfling didn’t answer. He took a couple more weaving steps, stopped, stiffened, then collapsed to the floor. Both guards stared at him for several moments, as if they expected the halfling to leap up any moment and yell, “Surprise!” The small man just lay there, unmoving.

The guard who’d shouted at the halfling drew his sword and walked forward, keeping his gaze trained on the seemingly unconscious little man, alert for even the most subtle of movements. The guard reached the halfling and was just about to prod him with his sword when a blur of motion emerged from the corridor’s gloom. The Black Fleet raider looked up to see a woman come cartwheeling toward him, but before he could fully understand what he was seeing, let alone react, he felt a sharp piercing pain in his side. He looked down to see the halfling sitting up and holding onto the hilt of the long knife that had been thrust into his gut. Confused and feeling the first numbing touches of shock, the raider could only watch as the woman-an elf, he thought, though she was moving too fast for him to be sure-tumbled past him. She leaped into the air and delivered a spinning kick to his partner’s head before the other guard had gotten his sword even halfway clear of its scabbard. The other raider’s head spun to the side, the motion accompanied by the sickening sound of snapping bone. The man was dead before the elf-woman landed on her feet, but it took his body an instant longer to realize it and topple to the floor.

The surviving guard looked back down at the halfling, and the little man gave him a savage grin before shoving the long knife farther in and twisting it around. Agony exploded in the raider’s abdomen and chest, but darkness rushed in to sweep away the pain.

Yvka was examining the lock on the gate as Hinto wiped his long knife clean on the shirt of the downed raider. The halfling sheathed his weapon and came over to join her.

“How’s it look?”

“Old and sturdy,” she said, “but I think I can open it.”

“Hello?”

Both Yvka and Hinto started at the sound of the voice. It belonged to a small girl child, and it came from the other side of the gate. With the light from the greenfire braziers so close, it took a moment for their vision to adjust before they saw the child standing a dozen yards behind the gate. She was dressed in ragged dirty clothing, barefoot, and her hair was scraggly and matted. She was also pale and far too thin.

Yvka gave the girl what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Hello.”

The girl hesitated then took a few steps closer. “The others don’t want me to talk to you. They’re afraid you’ve come to do bad things to us, just like you did to them.” She pointed at the prone form of the guard whose neck Yvka had broken. “Have you?”

Yvka tried to peer past the girl to see the other prisoners, but the brazier light interfered too much, and she could only make out shadows behind the girl that might or might not be a huddled mass of frightened people. She sniffed the air and smelled unwashed bodies, urine, and feces. She then recalled what Tresslar had told them about the storage areas. They’re really just large caverns that the goblinoids didn’t do much with, except smooth out the floors some. I can’t imagine it would be a very comfortable place to have your quarters. Considering the girl’s appearance and the smell emanating from the cavern, Yvka thought the artificer had made a huge understatement.

“We’ve come to set you free,” Hinto said.

“Free?” The girl came yet a few steps closer. “What’s that?”

Yvka felt a rush of sorrow at the girl’s question. “It means that you can go wherever you want, do whatever you want. It means that you’ll never have to serve in Grimwall again, and you won’t have to fear Erdis Cai anymore.”

The girl was still a few yards away, but she was close enough now for Yvka to see her clearly. The elf-woman sometimes had trouble telling how old humans were, for they aged so much more rapidly than elfkind, but she thought the girl was five, six at the most. Yvka wondered if the poor thing had been brought here so young that she had no memory of the outside world or worse, that she’d been born here and never been beyond Grimwall’s tunnels and chambers. Either way, it was a tragedy. A human lifetime was brief enough as it was without having to waste any of it trapped in a place like this.

The girl kept coming toward them until she stood just on the other side of the gate. “Promise?” she said.

Yvka smiled though she felt tears threatening. “With all my heart.”

The girl looked into the elf-woman’s eyes as if trying to gauge her sincerity. Finally, the girl smiled, then turned to back over her shoulder. “Everyone! This lady is going to help us!”

At first there was no response, but then the shadowy forms began to come forward from the darkness, resolving into men and woman, children and oldsters, dozens upon dozens of them. Some were wearing simple brown tunics woven from coarse cloth, while others were garbed in tattered scraps no more substantial than what the little girl wore. Many were stooped and hunched over, or walked with a limp or held an arm at their side at awkward angle, the legacy of old injuries that had never healed properly. Worst of all were the gaunt ones with a white pallor and bite marks-some of them fresh-on every inch of their exposed skin.

Yvka hadn’t told anyone, but once she’d learned Erdis Cai was behind the Black Fleet, she’d decided her employers would want to establish a trading relationship with the undead explorer in order to gain access to the treasures, both material and mystical, that he’d acquired during his mortal life. After seeing these poor wretches, she hoped Diran would destroy the bastard and send his soul straight to the worst afterlife the planes had to offer.

Yvka reached into her pouch, removed a pomegranate seed, and inserted it into the keyhole of the gate’s lock. “Everyone stand back,” she said. “This tiny seed is a magical explosive, and it packs a wallop when it goes off.”

The prisoners shuffled backward but not too far, as if they couldn’t bring themselves to move any real distance from the gate and their promised freedom. Yvka figured they were far enough away. After all, it wasn’t that powerful an explosive. She looked down at Hinto.

“We need to move.”

The halfling nodded and together they stepped several paces away from the gate. Yvka was just about to turn back around and speak the three words that would activate the magic seed, when her foot came down on something slick and almost slid out from under her. She gazed downward and saw a pool of blood on the floor, along with a line of thick drops stretching off down the corridor.

The guard whom Hinto had stabbed was gone.

Ghaji and Diran jogged through the domed city. They’d found their way here easily, thanks to Tresslar’s directions, but the place was deserted. The half-orc ran with an axe in each hand, keeping a sharp eye out in case something should be hiding inside the domed buildings, ready to pounce on them.

A sound like breaking surf came from the direction in which they were headed. At first Ghaji wondered if the vast cavern that housed the domed city opened onto the sea, then he realized that what he was hearing wasn’t the rise and fall of crashing waves but rather chanting. Ghaji glanced at Diran, and the priest nodded grimly. The companions increased their speed and ran as fast as they could toward the sound.

The chanting grew louder and the domed buildings fewer and farther between. Then the buildings were gone, and the stone floor of the cavern sloped downward to make a large bowl-shaped depression in the ground. Bald-headed men and women garbed in black filled the amphitheater, sitting in descending rows. Now Ghaji understood why the city was deserted: everyone was here. Diran and Ghaji stopped at the top level of the amphitheater, hearts pounding and lungs heaving. The denizens of Grimwall were so engrossed in their chanting that they didn’t notice the newcomers, though Ghaji didn’t think they’d remained unnoticed for long.

He leaned close to Diran and spoke softly. “I thought the resurrection ceremony was supposed to take place in the lower catacombs.”

“Tresslar was merely giving us his best guess,” Diran said. “Perhaps Erdis Cai has made some changes to Grimwall in the last forty years.”

The chanting, which was in a language Ghaji didn’t recognize, grew louder still, rising to a crescendo. Diran gripped Ghaji’s shoulder and crouched, pulling the half-orc down with him. Ghaji understood. Diran wanted to observe for a moment and remain unseen as long as they could.

A figure sitting on the bottom row stood and walked into the center of the amphitheater’s stone floor. The audience was shouting now, some of them raising their fists in the air, though they stayed seated. The man was garbed in obsidian armor with jutting spikes at the shoulders and elbows, and he wore a broadsword belted at his waist. His head was uncovered, and even from this distance Ghaji could make out the man’s chalky complexion and crimson-tinted eyes. This, at last, was Erdis Cai.

Ghaji glanced at Diran and saw that his friend’s eyes had narrowed and his jaw was set in a determined line. This was the foul creature that had sent the Black Fleet out roving to capture and sacrifice who knew how many innocents over the years and who also held Makala prisoner somewhere within this ancient series of caverns and tunnels.

“Do you see the symbol on his breastplate?” Diran asked.

Ghaji’s upper lip curled in disgust. “The Mark of Vol.”

Erdis Cai raised his arms and the crowd fell instantly silent.

“My children,” he began. The vampire lord didn’t shout, but his voice filled the amphitheater. “All of you were either brought here over the yeas by my Black Fleet or are the descendants of those who were, and when the dark glory of Vol was revealed unto you, you chose to join me and enter into Her service.”

Ghaji didn’t have to wonder what happened to those captives who refused to worship Vol. They were pressed into servitude, sacrificed, or used as food.

“Most of you were not here at the beginning when the first sacrifice was made in our mistress’ dark name, but you will all be here to witness the end, for only three more sacrifices are needed to restore the ancient warriors to life. Tonight we shall conduct all three sacrifices, and Vol shall have her army at last!”

The crowd roared with excitement, some people clapping, some stomping their feet, many doing both. Ghaji looked at Diran and saw that his frown had deepened into a scowl. Not only had they arrived on a night of sacrifice, they’d arrived on the last night, when Erdis Cai would complete the spell to restore the warriors to life and place them under his command.

Diran would have said that that the Silver Flame itself had led them here to this place and time in order to prevent such a monstrous evil from being unleashed upon the Principalities. Ghaji figured they’d just gotten lucky. Either way, it didn’t matter. The two of them were here and there was work to be done-the kind of work they did best.

“Shall we?” Ghaji said.

A pair of silver daggers appeared in Diran’s hands as if by magic. “Let’s.”

They stood and began making their way through the crowd toward the amphitheater floor. The crowd’s exuberance drained away, and their cheers fell silent as all heads in the amphitheater turned to look at the priest and the half-orc. No one tried to stop them, perhaps because they were so surprised to find intruders in their midst. Then again, perhaps it had something to do with the way Ghaji bared his teeth at everyone as they passed.

If Erdis Cai was surprised to see the pair of newcomers striding through the crowed toward him, he gave no outward sign. The vampire lord simply stood, watched, and waited.

As Ghaji and Diran drew near the amphitheater floor, the half-orc spied Onkar sitting in the front row next to a beautiful raven-haired woman wearing a red bustier and a black skirt. The Black Fleet commander jumped to his feet, eyes blazing red and fangs bared in a hiss. Onkar reached for his sword, but Diran hurled one of his silver daggers and the blade pierced the vampire’s hand. Onkar howled in pain and held his hand up to inspect it, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. The dagger had completely penetrated his undead flesh and bone, the hilt pressed against the back of his hand and the blade emerging from his palm. Black ooze dripped from the wound, and a foul stench filled the air as Onkar’s hand began to sizzle and burn. The vampire grabbed the hilt of the blade and attempted to pull it free, but the handle was also silver, and he yanked his hand away, the palm burnt and smoking. The hand impaled by the dagger continued to blacken until it was little more than bone covered by charred skin. Then the flesh on Onkar’s wrist and forearm began to smoke as the silver poisoning started to spread.

Erdis Cai had only watched up to this point, but now he moved faster than Ghaji’s eyes could track, becoming an obsidian blur as he drew his broadsword and sliced off Onkar’s wounded hand before the infection caused by the silver dagger could spread any further. So swiftly did Erdis Cai move that he’d returned his sword to its scabbard before Onkar’s severed hand hit the floor. The hand continued to burn until it fell away to ash, leaving the silver dagger, smooth and clean, lying on the ground.

Onkar stared at the stump where his hand had been, then he looked at Diran with hate-filled eyes. The vampire’s body tensed, and Ghaji knew Onkar was going to attack.

The half-orc was about to activate his fire axe when Erdis Cai said, “Hold.”

Onkar’s body jerked backward as if he were a hound and his master had yanked on an invisible leash. He shot Erdis Cai a sullen glare but otherwise didn’t protest.

“Welcome to Grimwall,” Erdis Cai said to Diran and Ghaji.

He smiled, showing his fangs, but it was a cold smile devoid of any trace of humanity. His eyes glowed with the smoldering red flame common to all vampires, but beyond it Ghaji saw only a great vast nothingness, and this frightened him more than the fangs and crimson fire ever could. He’d seen similar empty gazes on the battlefield from men and women whose minds had retreated far inside themselves to escape the horrors of war. In Ghaji’s experience, a person with such emptiness inside himself was capable of committing any atrocity without hesitation or remorse, or indeed, without any recognition that he was doing anything unusual at all. It was this emptiness far more than Erdis Cai’s undead state and whatever dark magic he might command that made the vampire lord so very dangerous.

“I am Erdis Cai. This is my home and these,” he gestured at the crowd, “are my children. Who are you?”

Before either of them could answer, the raven-haired woman stood. Up close, Ghaji could see that the woman’s beauty was marred by a swollen, bruised jaw, as if she’d been recently struck. “These are Makala’s companions, Diran Bastiaan and Ghaji, a priest and a half-orc warrior.”

“A priest, eh?” Erdis Cai said. “How amusing.”

“Where is Makala?” Diran demanded. “What have you done with her?”

“Up to now, I’ve done very little with her,” Erdis Cai said, “but that’s going to change shortly, for she has a very special role to play tonight.”

Ghaji’s blood ran cold. Was Makala to be one of the final three sacrifices? He looked at Diran, and he could see his friend was struggling to maintain control of his emotions.

“We know all about your plan,” Diran said, “and we’re going to stop you.”

Erdis Cai sounded bored as he replied. “Yes, that’s what I’m going to do, and no, you’re not going to stop me.”

Erdis Cai flicked his gaze toward Onkar, and though the vampire lord spoke no words, Ghaji sensed a message pass between master and servant.

Onkar bared his fangs like a serpent about to strike, then he rushed Diran. Ghaji started forward, intending to intercept the vampire before he could reach Diran, but even as he began to move, Ghaji knew he couldn’t match Onkar’s speed. Just before the Black Fleet commander reached Diran, he stopped and shielded his eyes with his remaining hand.

Diran was holding up the metal arrowhead symbol of the Order of the Silver Flame.

Onkar hissed in anger, but he continued to shield his eyes as he backed away from Diran. Erdis Cai looked on in amusement, seemingly unaffected by the sight of the holy symbol. Ghaji noticed the vampire lord made no move to get closer to Diran, however.

“You might have a few tricks priest,” Erdis Cai said, “but what good will they do you and your,” he sneered, “associate against all of my children?” The undead explorer gestured at the crowed that filled the amphitheater and they shouted their support of their master.

“We didn’t come here to kill them,” Diran said. “We came here to kill you.”

Erdis Cai’s smiled fell away, and he looked at Diran, his eyes pulsing with inner fire. Ghaji had fought enough vampires during his time with Diran that he knew what was happening: Erdis Cai was attempting to use his hypnotic abilities to dominate Diran and enslave the priest’s will to his own. Ghaji looked away from the vampire lord, lest he be caught by the monster’s mesmeric gaze. Diran scowled, teeth clenched, a line of sweat trickling down the side of his face as he matched wills with Erdis Cai. Then Diran slowly began to raise his hand until he held the silver arrowhead in front of his eyes, blocking the vampire lord’s gaze.

Erdis Cai snarled and averted his eyes. “So you have a measure of power after all, priest.” The vampire lord turned to face Diran once more, but he looked off to the side, unable to gaze directly at the holy symbol. “Let us see how strong you really are.” He reached for the hilt of his broadsword and steel hissed as he drew the blade from its scabbard, but before he could free his weapon, a shout came from the uppermost level of the amphitheater.

“My lord!”

All heads turned to see who had cried out, all heads save Diran’s, that is. He never took his gaze off Erdis Cai.

Ghaji saw a Black Fleet raider standing on the highest row of seats. The man’s face was ashen, and he clutched his abdomen with blood-slick hands.

“Grimwall is under attack! Invaders are freeing… the servants…” The man staggered then fell forward, the people seated near him scrambling frantically out of the way as he smacked lifeless onto the stone steps.

Erdis Cai’s upper lip curled away from his teeth in a bestial sign of displeasure. “Enough of this foolishness.” He raised his voice. “Men and women of the Nightwind’s crew: go see what’s happening with the servants. If you find any invaders, slay them!”

Several dozen raiders rose from their seats and dashed out of the amphitheater to do as their lord commanded. As Ghaji watched the raiders go, he hoped Yvka and Hinto had already freed the prisoners and gotten them aboard one of the elemental galleons. If not…

Erdis Cai continued. “Our dark mistress will just have to forgive us for dispensing with the formalities this evening. Jarlain, Onkar, come with me.” He replaced his sword in its scabbard, turned, and began walking across the amphitheater floor away from Diran and Ghaji. Diran raised the hand holding a silver dagger and was about to throw it at Erdis Cai, presumably at the vampire lord’s unprotected neck, when Cai said, “Tear them apart, my children.”

The crowd roared and rushed forward.

“Stay close!” Ghaji shouted and activated his fire axe. Flames rose from the weapon, and the half-orc warrior began sweeping the axe in wide arcs in front of him to keep the onrushing citizens of Grimwall at bay. Diran stepped to Ghaji’s side, holy symbol exchanged for another silver dagger. The metal wouldn’t provide any special defense against these men and women since they were mortal, but a sharp blade was a sharp blade, regardless of what substance it was made from.

“We have to follow Erdis Cai before he can conduct the sacrifices!” Diran shouted.

Before he kills Makala, Ghaji translated. He nodded, and still wildly sweeping his fire axe with one hand and his mundane axe with the other, as a mob of black-garbed men and woman with clean-shaven heads and bloodlust in their eyes came at them. Erdis Cai’s “children” held back at the sight of the flames trailing from Ghaji’s mystic axe, none of them eager to be set afire.

Erdis Cai, Onkar, and Jarlain quickly reached the uppermost level of the amphitheater. Erdis Cai gestured over his shoulder, and the ground began to tremble. Immediately the bald cultists backed away, terror in their eyes. A seam appeared as the floor split into two separate sections that began to slide away from each other with a loud rumbling sound. The floor shook as its sections retracted, and it was all Diran and Ghaji could do to maintain their balance.

Erdis Cai and his two servants were no longer in sight.

“What’s happening?” Ghaji shouted over the noise.

“Erdis Cai must’ve activated some sort of trap!” Diran said. “Whatever it is, it’s terrifying our attackers!”

The black-clad men and women had lost all interesting in fulfilling their master’s command. They turned away from Diran and Ghaji and frantically tried to get off the retracing floor, shoving, hitting, and clawing at one another in their fear. Ghaji and Diran were only a few yards from the edge of one of the sections, and the half-orc could see iron grating being revealed as the two halves of the stone floor pulled back. Then the floor stopped retracting with a sudden jerk, knocking many of the fleeing crowd off their feet. Diran grabbed Ghaji’s arm to steady himself, and the half-orc braced his legs and managed to maintain his footing.

All was silent for a moment, and though many of Erdis Cai’s children continued fleeing, a number stopped, puzzled looks on their faces. The silence was broken by a series of soft snicks, as of latches being released. A rectangular section of the iron grating dropped away and fell to the floor below with a loud clang. A moment later a mottled-fleshed hand with long black claws gripped the edge of the amphitheater’s partially retracted floor. It was followed by many, many more, and then the owners of those hands hauled themselves up and dozens of naked forms with discolored flesh, burning eyes, and froth-flecked fangs scuttled onto the separate sections of the amphitheater’s floor.

“Ghouls,” Ghaji said. “If there’s one thing I hate more than vampires, it’s ghouls.”

Those Grimwall citizens still standing on the floor screamed in abject terror and fled for their lives. The ghouls, nearly forty of them in all, Ghaji judged, shrieked in dark delight and began attacking whatever mortals happened to be nearest, including Diran and Ghaji.