Haldred Chronicles: Alyssa (13 page)

Victoria, whilst
working with the Larrick City militia, had done her share of tailing suspects. 
She was an old hand at the stalker game.  Malak, likewise, was very nimble on his
feet.  Years of ambush operations, so he said.  Both of them had put their
acquired skills to good use in their tracking.  The darker street was where the
mugger had struck.  Victoria and Malak had witnessed the whole thing, watching
from either side of the road in two separate alleyways back from Alyssa. 
Victoria had had her pistol drawn and Malak his crossbow aimed, ready to
intervene should the mugger get the better of Alyssa.  Very quickly, they'd
realised they need not have worried.

Both had held their
breath as she had looked behind her.  By fate or luck or whatever, she didn't
seem to have noticed them.  Once she was gone, they stepped out, staring off
toward where the girl had disappeared into the night

“Don't know
about you,” Malak said next, glancing over at the equally surprised Victoria. 
“but I don't feel like being put in that guy's position.”

“Agreed.” said
Victoria, casting a look at the slumped form of the would-be mugger.  He didn't
appear to be too badly hurt on the outside but he didn't look in a good way
either.  He'd be feeling that in the morning.  Plus he'd probably need to bathe
for about a month.  He was probably very lucky.  Considering circumstances, the
girl could have done far worse; in fact she had
looked
as if she had
been about to do far worse

It had been
difficult to make out the details as Alyssa had her back to them but Victoria
had been able to see enough.  Girls did not traditionally have silhouettes that
looked like they had giant fangs jutting from their upper jaw.

“What's the
plan?” asked Malak.

Victoria
pondered.

They could
report it in right now.  They technically had more evidence after all.  Both of
them had seen her unnatural strength first hand.  That on its own didn't
confirm anything of course, but the fangs, well they were another matter.  You
didn't need archives for that.  That was a common vampire trait.

We need to
know more – more background information. 

Only the
archives could achieve that and two o'clock in the morning wasn't exactly
standard opening hours, they'd need to wait until at least nine o'clock

“Malak,” said
Victoria carefully.

For once, she
felt nervous, pursing her lips.

“I don't think
it's wise to keep following her to her house.”

Or maybe we
should call it 'lair'.

“We don't know
what else she's capable of.” she continued “We'll stick with knowing where she
works and go from there,”

Malak breathed a
sigh of relief.

“As much as I've
gone toe to toe with everything from orcs to bearkin,” he said, giving her a
look.  “I prefer to know more about what I'm fighting.”

“Agreed.  Let's
hope archives gives us something tomorrow.”

“Then what?”

Victoria's frown
deepened.

“We give the
Overseer what he wants.  The definitive answer.”

* *
* * *

Victoria watched
as Horna stroked his chin.

She and Malak
stood in the Overseer's room, in front of his extensive desk, having just
arrived and handed over the report to their commander.  They had given him the
definitive answer.

Yes, there was a
vampire.

Archives had
yielded additional information to go on once they had returned and this had
been quickly incorporated into the report.  Most of it they could already have
summarized.    Vampires
did
have unnatural strength.  They
did
need to drink blood to survive and they
did
have retractable fangs on
their upper jaw fit for the purpose.  Likewise, they all exhibited an unnatural
aura that unnerved humans around them, though oddly, the aura seemed to have no
effect on any other races.

It was
confirmed.  Alyssa was a vampire.

Whether she had
or had not killed the fat drunk was now no longer particularly relevant in the
overall investigation.  She was a vampire.  Classified as a clear and present
danger to peace.  Just like every other vampire in history.  Why would she be
any different?

Horna's eyes
were scanning over the pages as he flicked through them one by one, a pair of
small spectacles balanced on his nose.  He was making a point of ignoring his
two employees.  Victoria didn't mind; she was used to his attitude by now, as
was Malak.  Malak stood with his hands clasped behind him (he called it 'at
ease' though Victoria thought it looked tense and definitely not relaxed)
whilst she stood more casually, arms by her sides, awaiting the boss to finish
speed reading through the document.

Presently, he
did, setting the papers down and taking his glasses off.  He rubbed his eyes
before looking to both of them.

“Very good.” he
said after a few moments.

A
compliment?  That was rare.

“You have
confirmed that there is indeed a vampire on the loose in the Capital.”

“Yes” said
Victoria, her expression neutral.

“Very well.” he
set the report on the desk.  “My men will take it from here”.

His men?

Victoria
frowned, exchanging looks with Malak who returned with a similarly puzzled
expression.

“Isn't that us?”
Malak ventured.

Horna smiled. 
It was a knowing, evil little smile.  One Victoria had seen before and had
never liked.

“No my dear
Malak,” Horna stated.  “I mean
my
men.”

* * * * *

The Six Nations
War.  Those fifty years of constant conflict had bred their fair share of
horror stories.

All the nations
involved had done terrible things in the pursuit of victory.  Most, if not all,
of those terrible things had now been, thankfully, consigned to history living
on only as bad memories in the minds of those who had witnessed them, or in
short typo ridden passages in the history books.

All nations had
done terrible things.

But none more so
than the Darnhun.  The Darnhun nation.  A nation that loved war, and gloried in
mastering it.

This entire
nation state, more than any other, had geared itself toward total war in all
its horrible forms.  Every single living individual was a warrior and served
the nations' government with utter loyalty.  Those who worked the furnaces of
the mighty smelting factories could just as easily wield the weapons they
built.  The healers amongst their number were deadly to a man (and woman) with
Bolt spitter or Carbo blade, weapons unique to the nations' military.

They were the
only nation that had warred against every other nation during those conflict ravaged
years.  Most of the nations could not geographically combat everyone.  The far
western Halnas had never warred with Argon, as the vast Magra empire sat
between them.  Neither had the Northern Trima tribesmen and Halnas warred, so
far apart were they across the continent.

The Darnhun, in
contrast, had fought everyone.  They had used their vast and powerful fleet of
steel reinforced ships to raid and invade across the seas, or used vast steam
powered land-ships to attack across any terrain, rolling over the opposition. 
Many and varied had been their methods of war, many and varied had been the
terrible deeds they had carried out on their enemies.  Concerns had been
quickly raised about the sincerity of the Darnhun in joining the peace table. 
None of the other nations could understand how such a war-loving state could
ever be convinced to lay down their arms and accept peace.

After all, what
happened when the world wide war that had fuelled their lust for violence was
ended?  Simple, they became mercenaries.

It was made
clear, that everyone and anyone could hire the Darnhun warriors, from highest
lord to the lowest criminal gang leader, as long as the coin was right.  Moral
code counted for little, sometimes even less than that.  The coin did all the
talking, aided by the promise of violence.

Now a group of
these mercenaries were carried along by squadrons of heavy horses pulling
armoured coaches, thundering through the morning light from an encampment on
the Argon shores,

The coaches that
the Darnhun were transported in were jagged ugly armoured things, sinister in
the morning light, with spiked coach wheels and sharp angular frames.  All
designed to strike fear in those who saw them.  They did a damn good job as
they raced first through the Argon countryside, then through the streets of
Larrick City.

Many a head
turned at their passing, and many turned away again in fright and apprehension.

Upon the flanks
of the armoured coaches, a symbol.  Twisted coiling snakes of dark green, set
before a blood red dragon with wings outstretched and mouth agape.

It was a sign of
unity; unity between House Gladwell and the mercenary unit known as 'The Doom
Vipers'.  Hired by Horna Gladwell.

* * * * *

Victoria sat,
using her knife to poke the so-called food in front of her.

Why she had
decided to have lunch at the 'Broken Dreams' tavern was beyond her.  It was
maybe something to do with the distance from the Council of Peace compound.  It
was far away, and she wanted to be far away from that place right now.

It felt less
infuriating than being near the Overseer.

But it didn't
make her choice any less odd.  The food here was...well you just weren't sure
it was food.

She felt eyes on
her and looked up to find one of the barmaids, a petite, young, brown-haired
girl staring at her.

“Are you ok?”
the girl asked timidly, giving Victoria a slightly pitying look; as if sensing
her distrust of the 'food' before her.

 Victoria
shrugged.  The girl approached and leaned toward her in a conspiratorial
manner.

“The sandwiches
are a safer bet.” she said in a hushed whisper, casting the plate of what
appeared to be corned beef in front of Victoria an embarrassed nod.  “I make
them.  If you want?”

If only the
food was the only problem I had right now.

“Why not,”
sighed Victoria, leaning back to allow the girl to collect the plate.

“Back in a sec.”
the girl assured her.

Victoria watched
her go.  She reminded her of Alyssa.

Short, young,
beautiful, and potentially hiding any number of secrets.

Wonder if
you're a vampire too?

She chuckled to
herself. 
What a mess we are about to unleash on this city.

She didn't
notice Malak approaching.

“There you are.”
he said, taking a seat in front of her and setting his crossbow to one side.

“Aye,” she
replied.  “here I am, and please don't forget that thing again.” she added,
nodding toward the crossbow.

“I take it you
don't like where things are going?”

She nodded,
sighing, her face wearing an expression of both resignation and disgust.

“All he's going
to succeed in doing,” she said, casting Malak a look.  “is either getting a lot
of people killed or at the very least, giving the Council of Peace a very
un-peaceful image.”

She leant back
in her chair, crossing her arms and staring at the tavern ceiling.

“A raid.” she
mused.  “A bloody Darnhun raid.”

She looked at
him again.

“Subtle.”  she
concluded without conviction.

“I know.” agreed
Malak.  “They always leave a mess.”

He flashed a
grin.  “Now, a Tornar raid...”

She actually
smiled at that, very slightly.

“They'd do it
right,” he continued, smile growing.  “in and out quick, proper slick.  Dead or
alive, we'd have it done no worries.  And best of all...”  He began crossing
his arms in a superior sort of way.  “...no civilian casualties.  Now that,
that is professionalism.”

Victoria nodded.

“If only,” she
acknowledged “pity it's only the internal investigation department that use
your lads.”

They sat, silent
for a moment.

“If even half
the stories from the archives are right.” Victoria said presently.  “There
will
be civilian casualties tonight.”

Malak nodded. 
“I still can't believe it though.  I mean that little girl.  A vampire?  She
just didn't seem the type, you know?”

Victoria
shrugged her shoulders.  “They're known to be deceptive creatures.  Besides,
once turned, they don't age.  She could be a few years old or centuries old. 
We'd not know either way.”