Thieves of Blood

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When the last ghoul was dead, Diran took a quick look around and realized that Makala was missing.

“Makala?” he called, but there was no answer. He turned toward Ghaji and Tresslar, but the worried expressions on their faces told him that they had no idea where she was.

Diran still held a silver dagger from their battle with the ghouls, and he gripped it tightly and starting running back in the direction from which they’d come. Part of him wanted to believe that Makala had simply gone off in pursuit of a fleeing ghoul, but he feared something else had happened, something bad.

As he drew near one particular building, he felt a dark presence emanating from within. He could almost see it, as if a shadowy cloud covered the domed structure. Without hesitation, he headed for the building and plunged through the open doorway.

Onkar crouched over Makala’s prone form. Her throat had been torn to shreds and her blood was smeared over the lower half of the vampire’s face. Onkar looked up with a feral snarl and his eyes blazed with red flame, as if he were a wild beast disturbed in the act of feeding. Thanks to the fresh infusion of nourishment Onkar had stolen from Makala, the battle wounds he’d sustained were already in the process of healing. A tiny hand no larger than an infant’s now protruded from the stump where Ghaji had hacked off his arm. The hand possessed miniature claws and the slender fingers waggled, almost as if Onkar’s new hand were waving to Diran.

Onkar grinned, displaying fangs slick with Makala’s blood. “You’re too late, priest. She’s dead, but if it comes as any consolation to you, she was delicious.”

With the litheness of a jungle cat, Onkar sprang over Makala’s body toward Diran, fangs bared and claws outstretched. Onkar slammed into Diran and knocked him to the ground. The vampire held Diran down with his good hand while he lowered his mouth toward the priest’s throat.

For an instant, Diran considered letting the vampire have him. He’d fought so long against the darkness-both within and without-and his soul was weary. He’d come too far to give up now, and if he could reach Makala in time, there was a chance that he might be able to save her.

Just as Onkar’s incisors dimpled the flesh over his artery, Diran brought the silver dagger in his hand up and rammed the blade into Onkar’s left ear. The sacred metal burned its way through undead flesh and bone and lodged deep within the vampire’s brain. Onkar threw back head and screamed. Blood gushed from his other ear, his eyes, nose and mouth. Makala’s blood.

Diran shoved the shrieking fiend off him and quickly crawled over to Makala’s side. As Onkar thrashed on the floor of the domed building, Diran closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing evenly.

Please, he prayed, and pictured a spark of silver fire appearing in the palm of his hand. He felt the holy power of the Silver Flame surge through his body, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that his hand was filled with a brilliant blue-white light. So strong was its illumination that Diran couldn’t look directly at it. The light spilled over Onkar as well, and the wounded vampire’s shrieks rose in volume and pitch, becoming so loud that Diran thought his eardrums might burst, but he didn’t care about that. All that mattered was Makala.

Diran pressed his palm to Makala’s savaged throat and willed the Silver Flame to enter her body, to seek out the foul corruption inside her and destroy it. How long he knelt there, channeling the power of the Silver Flame into Makala, he didn’t know. At one point he became aware that Onkar’s screams had stopped, and he knew that Ghaji and Tresslar had arrived and finished off the damned creature.

Finally, Diran felt the Silver Flame diminish, and the light slowly faded until it was gone. When he removed his hand from Makala’s throat, he saw that the skin was smooth and unbroken, as if Onkar had never attacked her.

“Did it work?”

Diran glanced over his shoulder and saw Ghaji standing there, worry in his eyes.

Diran avoided his friend’s question. “Where’s Tresslar?”

“While you were… busy, I decapitated Onkar and dragged the two halves of his corpse outside. I used my fire axe to set the remains aflame. Tresslar’s watching the body burn. We’re going to make sure the bastard is completely destroyed.”

Diran nodded. He’d been so focused on Makala that he hadn’t noticed the foul stink of burning flesh, but he smelled it now.

Ghaji nodded toward Makala. “Is she hurt?”

Diran turned back to look at her. Though her body and clothes were stained with blood from Onkar’s attack, she looked peaceful and relaxed, as if she were only sleeping.

“I don’t know,” Diran admitted. “What I tried has never been attempted, as far as I know. If I got to her in time…” He trailed off and reached into a pocket and brought forth the silver arrowhead that was the symbol of his faith. He reached out, placed the arrowhead in Makala’s palm, and closed her fingers around it.

At first nothing happened. Then came a soft sizzling sound, as of meat cooking over an open flame. Diran opened Makala’s hand and removed the holy token.

On her palm was a scorch mark in the shape of an arrowhead.

Makala opened her eyes.

“Welcome back,” Diran said.

She sat up and reached for her throat. She ran fingers over smooth, unbroken skin and sighed with relief. “Did you heal me?”

Only a few feet away, Diran sat cross-legged on the stone floor. The domed building contained a single large room, crudely furnished with a wooden table, chairs, and sleeping pallet set against a curved wall.

“I tried,” Diran said, his voice hollow, “but we found you too late. Onkar hadn’t quite… finished yet, and I destroyed him, but he’d nearly drained you dry by that point, and the vampiric contagion had already begun its work inside you. Despite my best efforts, I could not reverse its effects. I am… so sorry.”

Makala stared at Diran, as if she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. Then she reached up and gingerly felt her elongated canine teeth.

“No… No!”

She began to cry, and cold tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped the tears away with her fingers then looked at her hands. Her fingertips were smeared with crimson-the tears of a vampire. Without thinking, she started to bring her hands to her mouth to lap up the blood, but when she realized what she was doing, she shuddered in disgust and wiped her hands on the dirt floor.

Diran reached out to embrace her, but she scuttled away from him. She wanted Diran to hold her, but at the same time she feared his touch. The hurt Diran felt at seeing her recoil from him was plain in his eyes, but she couldn’t control herself. It was as if she were an animal acting on instinct. She was now an unholy thing, and Diran was a priest. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to go near him.

“It took a day for the transformation to complete itself. I’ve sat here the entire time, waiting.”

“Waiting for what? To destroy me?”

“If that’s what you wish.” Diran lifted his hand and showed Makala the wooden stake he held.

“I don’t understand.”

“Remember what you said just before Onkar attacked you? You were telling Tresslar that you knew two examples of people crossing from darkness over to light, from evil to good. You were talking about us, Makala.”

“Yes.”

“We both found the strength to do without our dark spirits, and we both stopped killing people for profit. If you could do those things, perhaps you will be able to resist the darkest aspects of your new… condition. You may carry evil’s taint within your blood now, Makala, but that doesn’t mean you have to let it control you. I will not slay you, not unless you want me to.”

A silence fell between them then, and it was some time before Makala finally broke it.

“I can hear the blood pulsing in your veins, Diran. I can smell it. The thirst is so strong…” She began crawling toward Diran, the first flickers of red flame dancing in her eyes. As she drew near, she pulled her lips back from her teeth and opened her mouth wide.

Diran made no move to stop her. He simply sat and waited for whatever would happen next.

Makala paused. Slowly, the crimson light in her eyes dimmed and she closed her mouth. “I don’t want to live like this,” she said, “yet… Sovereigns help me, I don’t want to die, either.” She forced a laugh. “Emon would be proud of me, don’t you think? I’ve become the ultimate assassin. I no longer need another spirit to share my body-I am an evil spirit all by myself.” She felt as if she was going to cry again, but she fought back the tears. She didn’t want Diran to see her weep blood.

“No matter what else you have become,” Diran said, “you are still Makala, and I will always love you.”

Makala gave Diran a sad smile, then came forward and pressed her cold lips to Diran’s.

“Farewell, my love.”

Her form blurred then, and with a sudden rush of wind, she was gone.

Diran remained sitting there, alone, for quite some time.

“Is it done?” Ghaji asked as Diran stepped onto the deck of the Zephyr.

Diran didn’t answer, and Ghaji decided not to press the matter. Whatever had occurred, Diran would share it in his own good time.

The priest stepped over to the starboard railing and looked out upon the moonlight reflecting silver off the water. Ghaji walked over and joined him.

“The Nightwind is ready to sail, but Hinto thinks we should wait until daylight to depart. It’ll be easier to navigate the winding passage out of the cove then.”

Diran nodded, though Ghaji didn’t think his friend had really heard him.

Their plan was simple. The Zephyr would lead the Nightwind-piloted by Hinto and Tresslar and crewed by a number of former prisoners-along the shoreline of Orgalos until they found a suitable place to set anchor. They would then begin ferrying the freed prisoners onto land.

The half-orc wasn’t certain what would become of Grim-wall. Tresslar wanted to pick through Erdis Cai’s collection to retrieve whatever magic items might be of interest, while according to Yvka, her employers in the Shadow Network would most likely wish to do the same. Hinto wanted them to take over Grimwall and use it as their base of operations, just at the crew of the Seastar had so many years ago. Ghaji had tried pointing out to the halfling that there was no them, and thus they had no need for Grimwall-not to mention there were still undead hobgoblins lurking about somewhere-but Hinto had ignored him.

“How much longer until sunrise?” Diran asked.

Ghaji looked up at the sky. “A little less than two hours.”

“Where’s Yvka?”

“In the cabin, meditating.”

“Why don’t you go join her and get some rest,” Diran turned to Ghaji and managed a smile, “or whatever. I think I’ll stay here and wait for dawn.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather let her be. Though she won’t admit it, piloting the Zephyr takes a lot out of her, and she’ll need her rest for tomorrow.”

“As you wish,” Diran said.

The two companions stood silently side by side as they waited for the first rays of sunlight to come chase away the darkness.