The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI (7 page)

“I smell…”

Feyden held his breath.

“…something good.”

Lorifal and Feyden glanced at one another, uneasy, but a low growl drew their attention. A large wolf, hackles raised, teeth bared, moved into the circle surrounding the fire pit. He was unafraid of the flames, unusual for his species. He moved to the female vampyr, who was dismissive.

“Stupid dog, I command you to lie down.”

The wolf snarled and gnashed his teeth, and he was joined by a second wolf. The vampyr was puzzled and growing angry.

“I said lie down!”

The two wolves were joined by a third, then a fourth, all growling menacingly.

“You worthless animals!” the vampyr said. “You will obey me!”

“They don’t answer to you anymore,” Raine said, stepping into the circle, her sword in hand. She rubbed the back of the wolf’s mane. “And they’re not happy about being your slaves.”

Vampyres materialized from everywhere, shocked that this woman had infiltrated their compound without being seen. The head of the covey looked to the humans, the ones they sought to use as leverage if needed, but they were already gone. And the dozen wolves, who would have been dangerous anyway once freed of their spell, now rallied about the stunning woman in their center.

Still, the intruder was outnumbered forty to one, surely, despite their warnings of her prowess, she would fall to their numbers.

“Attack!” the female vampyr screamed, baring her fangs, and all obeyed.

The first to reach her were unlucky for their haste. She cut them down, slicing off limbs to ensure they could not keep fighting. The wolves went after the fallen, gnawing and shredding them until they finally disappeared into ash. Several spells were cast her way but had no effect at all, so the vampyres abandoned that tactic and went to conventional weapons. More rushed her and arrows began to rain down upon the foul creatures, knocking them to the ground where the wolves again did their duty. The woman was a blur of flashing steel as swords sliced out in every direction, taking an arm here, a leg there, but still, the vampyres were hellishly fast and their numbers overwhelmed her and took her to the ground. But she fought as well there as she did standing and they had no advantage. She moved to dual daggers in the close quarters and soon was covered in the ash of her destroyed enemies.

And then an enraged dwarf waded into the fray, his enormous axe swinging a continuous arc of death. Many sought to get a grip on him, to stop him with a bite, but his armor covered him so completely that no bare skin was available to target. Magic might have worked on him, but thankfully the vampyres did not return to that approach since it had already failed. Arrows flitted through the dank air with unerring accuracy and took down the assailants on the perimeter. The human hostages had made their way through the deep corners of the cave, as instructed by Raine, and were now near the entrance. Feyden paused his barrage to push them towards the narrow passage that led to the cave’s mouth and they fled. He returned to his fusillade and very quickly the number of vampyres was halved. Their goal went from attack to escape.

“None leave!” Raine cried out, and Feyden moved to obey. He positioned himself in front of the narrow passageway and drew his sword. He was flanked by a small pack of wolves who also took position. Lorifal chased those fleeing into Feyden and the wolves, and the panicked group was trapped between the vicious axe, the deadly sword, and the gnashing teeth. The area became a vortex of black ash.

Raine, meanwhile, was finishing those in the arena of the fire pit. She was still outnumbered, but the ratio was so diminished it seemed she was now in the majority. The remaining vampyres fought hard, and Raine took several minor cuts and bruises, but no strike came close to doing real damage. The worst she sustained was a bite on her wrist that she allowed so she could decapitate the head latched onto her arm. Finally, the last attacker fell, and Raine sliced downward and cut the vampyr in two. She looked up to Feyden and Lorifal, who were also finishing with their undead.

Raine sheathed her swords and surveyed the pack of wolves that returned to her side. She ruffled their fur and examined them. Most had sustained only minor wounds, a few, some more serious. She was saddened to see that one had fallen. She picked up the beast and slung it over her shoulders.

“I will take care of this one,” she said, addressing the alpha, “and see that he is returned to the earth properly.”

The wolf gazed at her with glowing yellow eyes as if he understood.

“Send my regards to Fenrir,” Raine said, “and tell him I will see him soon.”

The alpha yelped his understanding, and the pack trotted off, brushing by Feyden and then disappearing down the narrow passage in single file. Raine followed them and rejoined her friends. A body twitched nearby, the only one that had not yet turned to ash.

“Do you want to leave a messenger?” Lorifal asked.

“No,” Raine said.

With an enormous overhead strike, Lorifal stopped the twitching and the body dissolved into ash. That was one fortuitous thing about fighting the undead: there was no doubt as to whether they still posed a threat. The entire cave was blanketed in a fine, black powder. Raine herself was covered in black, the fine dust sticking to the sheen of perspiration on her skin. She glanced about the enclosure with a small sense of satisfaction.

“I think the message will be clear this time.”

Chapter 8

R
aine slipped into the castle as effortlessly as before. She was much cleaner than she had been the day prior because she had bathed in the first stream she had found to wash the noxious ash from her body. She cleaned herself again, more thoroughly, upon arriving at Fireside. And after briefly attending to her weapons and armor, she chose not to sleep, but returned in the dark to the palace.

“I see you have returned unscathed.”

Raine stepped from the shadows into the light and the woman turned those pale eyes upon her. The eyes drifted to the wound on Raine’s wrist. “Well, not completely.”

Raine circled the woman without fear, but cautious. “Are you disappointed I survived the trap you set for me?”

The woman was only entertained by the allegation. She plucked a leaf from a nearby vine. “Oh, it was not a trap. It was a test. And I am far from disappointed.”

Raine decided to articulate her suspicions. “And why would you send me to slay your own kind?”

It was less than a bluff and more than a guess, and it was emphatically confirmed.

Malron’a smiled. “Because I wanted them dead.”

Raine did not move, and Malron’a continued with an alarming carelessness. “You are looking for the Shadow Guild.”

Raine kept her voice even. “You are the first person I’ve met who speaks those words without fear.”

“There is a reason for that.”

“You are a member of the Shadow Guild,” Raine said, resigned. “And no ordinary member, I am guessing.”

“There are no ordinary members of the Shadow Guild,” Malron’a said, her pale eyes gleaming. “But you are correct. I am second in the Shadow Guild hierarchy.”

If possible, Raine’s caution spiked even more. This was an incredibly dangerous being who exuded treachery and death.

Malron’a was entertained. “You are the first person I’ve met who hears those words without fear.”

“There is a reason for that,” Raine said, mirroring the woman’s reply as well as its implied threat.

Malron’a plucked another leaf from the vine. “Lately I have heard the most extraordinary rumors, tales of a woman traveling with an elf and a dwarf, a woman slaughtering vampyres and recklessly seeking the Shadow Guild. A woman who, despite her ability to kill with ease, always seems to leave one survivor behind. And most curious, a woman reported to be immune to the vampyr bite.”

Raine said nothing, and Malron’a glanced to the wound on her wrist.

“Are you?”

“I am.”

Malron’a looked as if she wanted to test the assertion then and there. But instead she continued her musing.

“And these tales were similar to others I heard, outlandish stories of a failed assassination attempt in the land of the Ha’kan. Four of the best assassins, all members of the Shadow Guild, thwarted single-handedly.”

“It wasn’t exactly single-handedly.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Malron’a paused as if contemplating something. “And is the dragon your lover?”

Somehow, Raine felt this was the most dangerous question yet posed by this woman. “Yes.”

“Then you are Arlanian.”

The revelation of her heritage made her feel exposed, but she kept her tone even. ”Then you know the other half of my heritage as well.” The blue and gold markings on her forearms appeared, then snaked up her arms onto her shoulders.

Malron’a said nothing, but continued her contemplation. The revelation of the markings seemed only to give her pleasure.

“And I don’t believe I killed those assassins with a single arrow,” Raine added. “I have killed many vampyres since then, and even the weakest are hard to kill.”

Malron’a broke her silence. “You did not kill them. They killed themselves. Except the one that was eaten by your lover,” she said, correcting herself

“Mauled,” Raine said, correcting her further, “she did not actually eat that one. From what I’ve heard, your kind does not taste good.”

“Interesting. From what I’ve heard, you do.”

Raine ignored the innuendo and moved on hurriedly. “But why did they kill themselves?”

“Because failure is not an option in the Shadow Guild. There are no second chances. And they would rather die by their own hand than by mine.”

Raine was falling into her own deep contemplation, that of the woman in front of her, their strange, charged exchange, and finally the overall situation.

“As second-in-command, can you issue the edict I wish?”

“The cancellation of the contract to kill a head of state?”

“Yes.”

“I cannot.”

Raine was disappointed, but before she could grow angry, Malron’a continued.

“But I could if I were first in command.”

And there it was a last. The motivation for their contrived meeting, the explanation for their convoluted conversation, the reason for the arbitrary and capricious actions of the woman in front of her.

“You want me to kill the head of the Shadow Guild.”

“I do. Her name is Pernilla. And just by telling you that, my life is now forfeit if you choose to reveal it.”

“You are remarkably trusting.”

“I trust no one,” Malron’a said, “but you need something and have but one option. I need something and have but one option. It would seem that destiny has brought us together.”

“Or something,” Raine muttered. “Fine, where do I find this Pernilla?”

“I don’t know where she is. I would start in Hestr. She is not there, but it will provide you a start.”

Raine thought through the bargain she was about to make.

“But the contract to kill a head of state is still in effect while I seek out Pernilla?”

“It is the number one priority of the Guild. And they will relentlessly seek to fulfill it until a dignitary falls. And there is a contract on your head as well, placed by me. I have to deflect suspicion, of course.”

“Of course,” Raine said, thinking furiously. The Shadow Guild was ruthless; they would not stop. She did not care about the contract on her own head. But she could not be everywhere; she could not protect all of the heads of state, or even coordinate their security, if she was drawn away on this quest. And it fleetingly occurred to her that such a distraction could be this woman’s intent, although it hardly seemed logical Malron’a would provide so much information if that were the case.

Raine was frustrated. It was only a matter of time before the assassins were able to take down a leader at an opportune moment. Although Raine had convinced those leaders that it was likely the dragons behind the contract, their subordinates and successor might not believe the same if that leader fell. The animosities between the peoples of Arianthem were ancient and deep and it would take very little to rekindle those long-standing hatreds. The dragons had hatched a treacherous plot.

“Then make my contract the priority,” Raine said. “Make them all come after me.”

Malron’a was stunned at the boldness and ingenuity of the creature in front of her. “And how am I going to justify that?”

“I will give you all the justification you need in Hestr.”

Chapter 9

A
nd so is your little toy gone?”

Volva lie on a golden couch gazing out from a balcony so high the earth below dropped into an infinite abyss. Her keep was perched on the side of a mountain, accessible only to creatures capable of flight. Jörmung was becoming so fat a dragon it was a wonder his wings could lift him to this height. Although all dragons were remarkable shape-shifters, their natural form was largely fixed, and although Jörmung could hide his life of dissipation by shape-shifting into an alternate being, it was fully on display in dragon form.

Which is probably why he spent the majority of his time in human form. He was handsome enough, young, but not so young as Volva, brown hair and brown eyes, smooth skin, tanned cheeks. But even so, he could not entirely hide the life of debauchery he led. Jörmung’s desires were depraved even by the loose moral standards of dragonkind. Where most sought sexual conquest through seduction, Jörmung preferred force, and the more unwilling his prey, the greater his enjoyment. This disease of character exhibited itself in the fine lines around his eyes that would appear despite his control over his malleable appearance, the grotesque network of veins that would rise on the surface of his nose like a drunkard’s curse. Even now, he was adjusting the belt on his cloak as he walked in and Volva correctly surmised he had just dragged one of her entourage into an alcove and raped him or her on the spot.

“Drakar? Yes, Talan’s baby boy is gone.”

Jörmung plopped himself down across from Volva and it was an action more associated with an overweight, middle-aged man than the youth he presented. Volva mentally compared him to the darkly handsome Drakar, and Jörmung suffered in the comparison. Drakar might be a fop, but he was an elegant and entertaining fop.