A Journey of Black and Red

Chapter 128: First Blood

The heavy axe slides against Rose at the perfect angle. Most of the strength bleeds away along the edge and I strike the man facing me with the pommel. A series of quick jabs pushes him away. A hint from my intuition, and I dodge under a back attack while sweeping. Rose deploys, hitting both the target close to me to the front, and the one farther at the back in one perfect strike. They reel.

“Darkness.”

I will not use Likaean here, especially not when those around are on my side.

“Fireblast!” Melusine yells from behind.

A powerful spell crashes against the two men in heavy armor. They do not see it coming as my magic hides and confuses, and they fall to the ground to smother the flames. Since I am in a generous mood, I conjure some ice to help them. A second later, Lord Islaev crashes against a nearby rock. He stands back up immediately, no worse for the wear.

“Enough of this. I do not enjoy hitting my head against a wall,” he says, his long cossack mustache quivering with outrage.

I was mistaken. His pride took a serious wound.

Jarek lands next to us a moment later, symbolically helping his ally to his feet.

“You are correct. We enjoy too much of an advantage now. Thank you for bringing us to that point.”

The prideful Islaev grunts, then slaps Jarek on the shoulder with a bitter smile. It sounds like someone brought a sledgehammer to an ironclad’s hull.

“I have done worse for less worthy causes. Your triumph is my triumph.”

“Thank you, old friend.”

Both teams dust themselves and enjoy a tense moment of handshaking. We have trained relentlessly for two nights already, one team against another, and enjoyed great progress. I always thought that the curse of vampirism was our lack of inspirational spark. It appears that this flaw does not extend to combat. Indeed, Jarek’s team, that is us, has made incredible progress.

Jarek is the vanguard of the formation as the strongest fighter. I was informed that the vanguard’s role varies from team to team depending on its composition. As far as Jarek is concerned, his role is to get into the thick of it and distribute punishment, a task he excels at. My role is to keep his back clear, which involves fighting multiple opponents. I am, in return, covered by Melusine and Vadim.

Vadim fights with knives in a style that reminds me a lot of Urchin, while Melusine is one of the handful of vampire mages capable of using fire. Hers is a smoky, smoldering thing that chokes and consumes, a great tool against other creatures of the night. I use my own style to give them the openings they need to bring their might to bear.

I am myself surprised at how well we work together, especially Melusine and I. I am instinctive and aggressive while she is patient and decisive. She has an excellent sense of timing, and I create a lot of opportunities with the confidence that she will exploit them. Vadim is more of a lone wolf fighter who functions best when fighting at the edges of the formation, and Jarek can let go when he knows that he will not be outflanked. Our high degree of coordination is serendipitous, although we are barely scratching the surface. My understanding is also that Jarek’s style tends to grow destructive when he triggers his Magna Arqa, and he needs one powerful rear guard, one who can survive it, to truly let go.

Our training finished for now, we check our gear and head back to the Maw. The woods surrounding the gate fortress mostly consists of shrubs and small trees. It offers more than enough cover for a small force, which is what we will be facing anyway. I follow Jarek as he climbs on the guard tower, and stares wistfully at the eastern horizon.

“I should have brought more boats.”

I do not object. We still need to evacuate a handful of fledglings and recent Masters who lack the training and mentality to be of much help. The overloaded ships are heading towards New Orleans, the next safe city. It will take at least another two days for them to return under ideal circumstances. We do not know yet how close the vanguard of the Expansion Faction is, or at least I assumed so. There are footsteps behind us.

We both turn to see the Natalis’ one rented mage climbing up the stairs. He catches his breath and makes his report.

“My Lord, we have contact.”

“Where?”

“The de la Vega hacienda. One full team. There are also rumors that gringos have gathered to the south, but I cannot say for sure.”

“I see. Thank you. Can you and Warden Nirari stay in contact?”

The mage winces.

“She will have to be the one to contact me, on account of…”

He trails off. I have not publicized the existence of the earrings, so most people do not know how I avoid magical detection, and I would prefer to keep it that way.

“It will do,” Jarek calmly says, “please return to the docks. We have work to do.”

Curiosity and worry bloom on the mage’s face. He has been in their employ for a long while and the Natalis remain one of the more light-handed clans around. His show of loyalty does him credit.

Nevertheless, the mortal knows that we will not explain our action, and he obeys. I wait for Jarek to decide.

“We will sally forth,” he finally says.

I understand. Fortifications are of no use against vampires. As the outnumbered party, we must go on the offensive, and attempt to defeat them in detail before they can gather. Such an action presents risks without proper information, however.

“We go now.”

Well, that was decisive.

I follow the Natalis lord downstairs and we gather once more in our respective teams. I cannot help but feel a bit upset at a course of action I perceive as rash. Most of the time, my attacks are planned.

“We have Europeans sniffing about the de la Vega Hacienda. We go fast, we go hard, and we take them prisoners. Are we in agreement?”

Quite a few eyes settle on me. What? I do not devour everyone I fight! They should know this by now!

“We are in agreement,” I say between gritted teeth. Jarek notices and smiles.

“I will take point. Vadim and Horacio will scout our flanks. Now, go.”

And we are off. We exit the Maw at full speed and approach the road, then quickly angle north and west through dense forest. We are mostly silent despite our speed, and the auras of Vadim and Horacio quickly disappear from my perception. I cannot help but feel a rush of excitement, despite the danger. This will be the first battle of the war.

We sprint through the difficult terrain like shadows. Lesser vampires would fear the energy expenditure of moving for hours, but we are not them. A mortal on our path would perhaps see something on the corner of his field of vision. We would be long gone before he would turn his gaze towards the unknown. It feels great to run with peers in perfect silence. It feels great to hunt with others who are WORTHY. More than that, it feels great to chase after the greatest of prey: ourselves.

Jarek knows the path. The land around us grows more rugged until we arrive at the edge of a valley. A large compound with red tiles surrounded by whitewashed walls takes the side, with tilled fields and dependent houses taking the rest. There are no signs of our foes. Jarek waits, and our scouts soon return.

Vadim and the master from Islaev’s team return. They use call signs to give information with inhuman speed. Vadim detected a foe by the wall gates, and Horacio another by the dependence.

Jarek turns to us and signs orders. Islaev’s team sprints to the side and we wait for a minute to let them get in position.

“Now.”

We rush to the main building, forfeiting stealth. A cry shows that we have been spotted, but it comes too late. We cross the gate to the hacienda’s inner courtyard and find three foes, two masters on either side of a lord in full metal armor covered in runes. He drops a book he was holding. Jarek charges and smashes against the lord who barely manages to survive a left hook to the chest, crashing against the house for his trouble. I wait for it to happen and extend my gauntlet towards the closest fighter who had been sent stumbling. She is a fencer, with a sharp foil and a dark scale armor. I cannot see her traits to her combat mask but I can perceive from her aura that she is a strong Lancaster.

“Promethean.”

I use one of Constantine’s signature spells. Red chains erupt from my gauntlet and latch on the unbalanced master’s frame. I deploy only two when the Speaker can manifest five times that amount, but they are difficult to cast, if cheap.

“Shield!” she replies. I expected it. All Lancaster Masters are trained warmages.

Instead of hitting the translucent barrier, the chains snake around and over it, encasing the foe in a crimson coffin. I immediately turn and block the other master’s strike with Rose’s guard. The next sequence happens simultaneously.

Melusine’s shieldbreaker spell crashes against the Lancaster master, sending her reeling. I lower my center of gravity and extend Rose in the second master’s plate armor, flipping him and making him miss a dagger thrust to my heart. Jarek ducks under a horizontal counter-swipe with an agility that belies his massive size and grabs the lord’s leg. That one does not know it yet, but he is done for.

The book hits the ground.

Jarek pulls and swings the enemy lord into the ground, armor and all. “Magna Arqa,” the downed fighter screams, and three copies of him appear and strike Jarek simultaneously. I also pull my captive towards me. She falls. Two fire spells hit her armored flank. Her hair catches on fire. The other Master and I exchange fast blows and it becomes clear that he is trying to disengage.

Jarek uses his gauntlets to block the strikes to his heart and neck, letting a third plunge into his abdomen. He counter-attacks by moving forward, pushing two images back and letting the other dig deeper into his body. He hammers down on his prone target with both gauntlets. Dust rises from the impact and gravel is sent flying. The torched master is screaming now, and her companion turns to run. Vadim stabs him in the neck and armpit as he does so.

The fallen book flops on its side.

Jarek lunges back with the lord’s abused frame in front of him to shield him from further blows. The Magna Arqa imitations flicker. Melusine quenches the flames on the fallen Master, still held in chains, and stabs her in the neck in the same motion. The wounded Master falls in Vadim’s arms. He will not stand again tonight. Jerak’s humongous mitt grabs the other lord’s like a bloodhound bites on a rabbit. There are creaks of abused metal. I look on and see a curious pistol in the victim’s grip. How modern!

Jarek frowns.

“A flare gun. He wanted to send a signal,” I explain.

“I see.”

Jarek pries the gun away from the other man’s grip, snapping a few fingers. The enemy lord’s face cannot be seen under his helmet, and he does not make a sound despite the rough treatment.

The Natalis lord considers the implement with some curiosity, raises it, and fires.

I watch the red plume climb to the heavens where it explodes with a light pop. Islaev arrives as we watch the peculiar show. He finds the gun in Jarek’s hand.

“Is that wise?”

“I suppose we will find out. Vadim, can you transport the three prisoners to the pier? They know what to do.”

“We have found a fourth, by the way, and there was most likely a fifth. She covered his retreat”

Islaev turns around and one of his men brings a burly woman in leather armor with, of all things, a bow. She was stabbed in the heart.

“Almost took my eye out,” Islaev comments drily. His bald head still shows a few spots of dark blood.

“I do not suppose you would tell us where your last teammate went?” Jarek asks the vanquished lord, still held straight in front of him.

“Unless you plan on… extracting that piece of information from me, no,” the prisoner answers in a breathy voice, possibly because of the broken ribs. His armor is in a poor state.

“We are still abiding by the rules of war even if our leader does not consider you a valid faction. You know what I mean,” he continues. Bertrand did not grace us with a declaration of war. He considers us as too beneath him. We are merely rebels he will bring back into the fray. Yet, the state of the hacienda shows that his soldiers have not engaged in wholesale slaughter yet. It could change, however, depending on Bertrand’s mindset and our own actions.

“I do. And you will not be interrogated. I must still, however, disable you.”

“Would my word not suffice?”

“Not in this instance. I would say that I am sorry but… you are attacking my land.”

Jarek grasps the man’s helmet between his gauntlet and crushes it. There is a sharp cry, the moan of tortured metal and snapped bones, then silence.

“Ariane, did you want to sample him?” Jarek asks as an afterthought. How very thoughtful of him! Still, I shake my head.

“He is your prey, not mine. I will take a few drops from the Lancaster though.”

“I understand. Hurry up, please.”

Islaev’s team helps Vadim load the bodies on his Nightmare while I pick up the defeated mage. Melusine kneels by my side.

“Remember, do not kill her,” she asks with a hint of worry.

“I assure you, Melusine, if I were in the habit of breaking my word to drain annoying Lancaster witches, you would know,” I hiss back. The gall!

My prey tastes of old magic and the sea. As expected, she is quite strong. We were fortunate to catch them off guard, outnumbered, and separated, or the battle would have been more challenging.

We would still have won, of course.

We let Vadim go back to the Natalis hold loaded with bodies, and Jarek immediately leaves the inner courtyard.

“Their reinforcements should converge here. I expect that most enemies will be south of us, but perhaps we can get lucky and run into a reconnaissance team to the north. Unfortunately there is no time to call the base. Whatever happens, we return to the base afterward. Now go.”

We rush again. Jarek knows the land well and we cut through rough shrubbery to a well-traveled road snaking to the north. If a team comes from there, they will probably follow this landmark. Jarek pushes his home advantage to its maximum. A gesture, and we slow down and hide our presence on either side of the dusty road. We do not have to wait for long. I end up almost nose to nose with a fast-moving Master after only a minute or two. Auras flare all across the battlefield.

The other team finds itself, once more, outnumbered. Jarek goes for their lord who is a bald man with a hooked nose and a severe face only wearing form-fitting clothes. He fights with strange daggers that include knuckle-guards and reacts immediately, flowing smoothly under and around Jarek’s assault. Their dance is deadly and patient, two masters with similar styles and centuries of battle experience.

It goes poorly for the rest of the team.

Within moments, Islaev is mangling a tall, spear-wielding fighter, while the rest of us overwhelms the rest of them. They start a fighting retreat and, eventually, run away, but not before someone uses another flare. We give chase shortly, with the lord using a Magna Arqa that makes his body liquid and impervious to most blows.

Only my intuition saves me from a painful wound. I twist on myself and a heavily enchanted javelin slides along the scales of my armor. We are attacked in the back? They must have been closeby.

In moments, the dynamic of the fight changes. I rush to Melusine’s help as she fends off an aggressive man wielding a sword and dagger. I cast a quick bind spell and distract him for long enough for Melusine to stab him with her foil, but the wound is not enough to take him down. It is enough for her to disengage. I attack.

Three Masters rush me, but soon Islaev is by my side and so is a lady in heavy armor with two axes. She and Islaev trade blows, him with a titanic saber and her with her brutal instruments. Their quick movements disrupt the flowing battle line.

I am in my element.

Chaos is perfect for me. It fits my style, and it allows me to make full use of my intuition. Feint low, and the blade dodged strikes another. Spells countered and avoided reach other targets, adding to the razor edge maneuvering of high-speed combat. The battle is an infinitely complex ballet as fast as lightning and as strategic as chess, an inhuman display where every moment is a painting begging to be immortalized, every motion honed by thousands, tens of thousands of hours of practice. The game of the immortals.

I love it.

Three battle masters is still too much for me and I am forced to use every trick I know to delay them. I throw knives and use blood bolts as a delaying movement. Rose extends and retracts and twirls and slices from my hand. It lives in the blood we spill together. IN THE HEART OF WAR, AS IT SHOULD BE. I block a spear thrust and pull a foe towards me to use his body as a shield, then boot him away with a shot to the chest. He manages to sidestep at the last moment and I miss his heart, then duck under a spell before I can exploit the opening. One wrong move and it is all over. I do not make wrong moves, but others do.

Little by little, the fighters’ focus wavers and mistakes lead to glancing blows, to severed fingers, then the atrocious pain of enchanted blades and soul weapons adds to the strain of constantly having to be perfect. Unexpected techniques such as the combination of my darkness spell and Melusine’s ranged attacks add to the mix until I get my chance. I allow a swordsman to land a blow on me, the blade going through my left armguard. The counterattack almost decapitates him. Rose feeds me figments of essence from the blood I shed, a small reward for a VANQUISHED PREY.

I feel something coming from behind and dodge to the side. The master attacking me is sent careening away.

“Take this and follow Horacio,” Jarek says. He hands me something that squishes under my grip. I recognize the insensate form of the unarmored lord. His right side has been pulped.

Ew.

I turn around and immediately obey, following Islaev’s team’s scout. Behind us, our two lords lay into the enemy to delay them. We disengage and run for it. Horacio does something and our auras flicker, then we are heading east towards the ocean and our base. Both Jarek and Islaev soon join us, sporting new wounds.

It takes us only ten minutes or so to reach the Maw. We enter the fortress, not that it will make much of a difference if the Expansion faction’s main force comes to repay us. Jarek walks up to me as I enter the wooden fort’s barracks and lifts the lord’s body from my shoulder.

“I will return shortly. Keep your eyes opened.”

“What if they follow us?” I ask, wary of splitting our already meager forces.

“I am certain that they will withdraw for tonight,” he answers.

I glare at Jarek. Many of his actions tonight seem reckless to me, and it sets me on edge. We are at the beginning of the game, and if we are already taking desperate risks, it will not take long before we are punished for it. Intuition can only carry me so far in the face of the ineluctable.

“Do you trust me?” Jarek says to my surprise.

I will have to be honest.

“I did until tonight.”

Jarek smiles lightly, still covered in his damaged armor. A single chuckle shakes his mighty frame.

“I suppose that this is fair.”

To my surprise, he leans forward and whispers in my ear at a volume so low that not even vampires could eavesdrop.

“I will explain the why, but for now I need you to act naturally. This involves showing signs of discomfort. Would you grant me this boon?”

I do not like it. I do not like it at all, and yet I owe the Natalis lord that much. Between his support, his training, and the help he provides John, I am in his debt.

“Yes. For one more night.”

“That is all we will need. If no ships have come tomorrow, we will have to try our luck on land.”

I watch him leave. Jarek is tense, and he shows a fatalistic streak that I do not trust. I sincerely hope that I am mistaken.

I return to Melusine as we wait for Jarek’s return. The Natalis compound has several secret underground dwelling places to hide vampires in times of crisis. We were shown one yesterday, and we were informed that we would be led to another tonight as well.

“This was my first vampire battle,” Melusine admits as we wait by a log wall, alone.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I feel more at ease in an office, taking notes while eavesdropping on a board of directors meeting. My bloodline favors the subtle influence one can wield upon mortals. Your charm is decent despite your upbringing…”

This twit.

“... and so you can understand the attraits of the subtle arts. We Lancasters have long been compared to spiders sitting at the center of the webs. I am sure that you can see why.”

“You have hairy legs?”

“No need to be crass. Our satisfaction derives more from clever plays than from violent, direct hunts. Not like you…”

No barbs? She must be concerned.

“You look different when you are in the middle of battle. Most of the time, you appear reserved. Not so much demure as distant. I watched you fight in a true battle and you are so... alive. The smiles. The bared fangs. I think I understand more how we are similar, yet apart.”

“You do not enjoy being on the edge? Winning?” I ask with some curiosity. She considers my question in silence for a moment. The fort is so quiet around us, and the others have split up after a lookout was designed.

“I enjoy winning, but not particularly the process leading to it. We are fortunate that I endeavored to keep myself battle-ready throughout the years, and still timing spells and keeping your foes from your back took every ounce of concentration I possessed. Fending off that master with my blade got the ‘blood pumping’ if you will forgive me the expression, but not that much.”

“I see. Did you know it would be like that before you volunteered to join me?”

This time, she does not hesitate.

“I volunteered to join you because the vagaries of war made me wary and facing your fears directly is still the best way to conquer them.”

She hesitates, then continues.

“And also because if you die here, I will have to deal with another Warden, and I cannot count on you not to fall.”

“Really?” I scoff, “does my record not speak for itself?”

“Let us see. Charging into a fiery inferno and ranks of Gabrielites with dubious allies?”

“It was the best way. And I did save you.”

“Getting trialed and tortured?”

“That was Anatole’s fault.”

“Stabbed in the heart in a duel after less than six months of life?”

“That was Jimena!”

“You were almost swallowed by a mutant alligator.”

“Operative word: almost.”

“And almost roasted by sunlight? Twice?”

“That doesn’t count!”

“And the pigs…”

“For the love of the Watcher, leave the pigs out of this!”

“My point, my dear Warden, is that for someone who claims to avoid death, he certainly gives you quite a few courtesy visits.”

“Hey! Well. Perhaps you do have a point.”

We remain in silence for a while, until a revelation finally dawns on my tired brain.

“Wait… Did you come here to protect me?!”

“You know what I want presently?” Melusine asks me all of the sudden. I cannot help but observe that she ignored my question.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Jarek.”

I glare.

“Is that a jest?”

“Would you mind spending the night alone? I have things on my mind.”

“Hussy. Shameless harlot!”

“We do not all have provincial European lords to entertain us in bed, Ariane. Speaking of which...”

Jarek returns, his eyes distant. Melusine steps away from the wall and struts confidently to the Natalis warrior.

“My lord, there was something I wanted your opinion on, before dawn, if you are so inclined,” she calmly declares.

That would be her chest. Definitely her chest.

“Why, certainly. I was just about to show everyone to their quarters.”

It appears that I will spend the day alone.

I wake up in a secured steel sarcophagus hidden behind a false wall hidden behind a shelf hidden under a trapdoor hidden in the middle of the fields. I make my way through rows of supplies left here as a distraction, and grab some water from a barrel for a bit of cleaning. I then proceed to scream when another false wall rolls down. Those are purely mechanical, so I did not detect it through my magical sense.

“Do I come at a bad time?” Jarek says as he pokes his head out of a narrow tunnel.

“GET OUT!”

Five minutes later and now properly armored, I invite him in and we sit across a simple table in the center of the refuge.

“My apologies. If it is any comfort, I have seen a lot of naked bodies in my days.”

“This is no comfort at all!”

“Let us focus on the matter at hand. I have great news. The Spirit of Dalton just came to port.”

“What? Already? It should be impossible…”

“My understanding is that their steam engine received a large supply of magical fuel just before they left. Your mages, as well as a few volunteers gathered by Sephare, have managed to push it beyond what should be possible.”

“I bet they must have messed up something.”

“They did. Your mages are all exhausted as well. On the other hand, this gives me some leeway in what will follow. I assume that you have found some of my actions… questionable… over the past few days.”

I frown and cross my arms, sitting back into the simple chair which groans against the weight of my armor.

“Indeed. Your sortie was reckless. Announcing your presence was stupid.”

“I will not deny that it was risky, but much less than you assume. Allow me to elaborate. In every major vampire war, half of the battle is knowledge acquisition. Outmatched factions win if they find where to strike and how. There are several famous examples throughout history.”

“I understand the concept.”

“Then know that you have unwittingly been at the forefront of such a war.”

I have?

“How?” I ask, somewhat annoyed that no one told me.

“Sephare was certain that one or several wardens would sell us out, and she was right. She sends most wardens a weekly information note containing information. I see you frown, and you do not receive it because she keeps you appraised in person. You are, after all, allied.”

“Uhu.”

“In the past few weeks, she has disseminated enough information to compromise a few select informers in Mexico. Those were all lost.”

“Sacrificial pawns?”

“Precisely. Since the fall of my hold was deemed… inevitable, we have decided to use it as an opportunity to ascertain the identity of our leak. Sephare let it be known that I would evacuate my people and stay until the last moment with only a token presence. She judged that Bertrand would not resist the appeal of taking me out of the conflict early on. She was correct.”

“How does this relate to my, errr, contribution?”

“Two weeks ago, she sent different reports instead of just one. People we suspect just got a valuable piece of information on the location of our underground caches, not those we are currently occupying of course, others. I will be personally notified of each and every one that gets opened during tonight’s battle thanks to a handy artefact purchased, I might add, from the White Cabal. My thanks. Now, we need a bait for the plan to work for sure, and that bait is prisoners. The expansion faction will want to extract them as soon as night falls.”

“Could they not send mortals before?”

“It would have happened already, and it would have been foolish. It takes hours for mortals to find the exact location of the caches and then, no one with half a brain will go underground in a vampire base. Not if they have a shred of common sense. In any case, the caches will be breached shortly after dusk, then we will know the identity of the culprit or culprits.”

“Bertrand could decide to delay it.”

“Like all plans, this one has a chance of failing. Nevertheless, we must try, and I am confident in this one. You see, Sephare understands Bertrand. He is a man who must appear to be strong in order to lead that unruly pack of hierophants and sybarites he calls a ‘faction’. Losing two lords of the first battle is not something that he can tolerate. He will go to any lengths to repair that outrage.”

“Including placing his trust in a backstabber?”

“Precisely. From his perspective, it costs him nothing. Even if he suspects foul play, the safety of the traitor will mean little to him. Bertrand abhors those who switch sides in times of peril.”

“Fair enough. You still haven't—”

Jarek raises a hand to interrupt me.

“I am giving you the full background for a reason, Ariane of the Nirari. Be silent.”

I am a bit chastised. Jarek never loses his patience with me.

“You are a known quantity for Bertrand. Your survival in Sweden and France irked him. He will want to handle you… personally. As such, all of his faction knows of you and your presence was reported in yesterday’s battle. This is why I asked for your presence. This is also why I attacked the scouting parties. And yes, I knew where the scouting parties would be. I did not act at random. Do not ask me how.”

“Fair enough.”

“By being present, you revealed that Bertrand’s information was not entirely accurate. This bought us enough time to finish evacuation while he regroups and prepares.”

“At a high risk to myself.”

“I give you my word that I will cover your retreat.”

I stop at that. Does he mean that he will… no, I cannot accept this.

“We need you.”

“We need to win. Victory takes sacrifices. If I am not captured, Bertrand will look for the causes of his failure and he might find them. He must win today so that we may all win tomorrow.”

I glare, because I finally realized something.

“You never intended to leave.”

“I made myself a promise. I will never abandon my family and my domain ever again. If I fall now, then so be it. Just make sure to capture enough people to exchange me later.”

“Oh, I thought you were going to, you know, die.”

“No one has died so far. Let us keep it that way, shall we?”

I breathe and lean back into the rickety chair. I knew that we needed some time to merge our different bands into a functional military. Apparently, we also need to root out traitors. Fair enough.

“What about Bertrand?”

It is Jarek’s turn to glare.

“If you can take him down, I will personally petition you to become queen of America.”

“Wow.”

“And by that I mean that it will not happen. Not within this century or the next.”

“Ah.”

“Enough of this. You understand what I must do and why. Your role is to escape when I tell you to, and bring Mel with you.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Mel?”

Jarek is not amused.

“Yes, Mel. Do you know that she can hold my entire—”

“Aaaaatatata not listening!”

“—Between her—”

“ALRIGHT! Fine. I understand.”

“Do not wrestle with a pig if you are afraid of mud, Ariane.”

I grumble something, but I know when I have been defeated.

“As I was saying before your constant interruptions, you must wait for my information, then leave however you can. Board your ship if possible, otherwise go by land. Our time will be short.”

“I understand.”

“Good. I had Islaev’s team board via sarcophagus, so it will be you, Mel, and me. I will come and get you just before night.”

I nod, and he leaves. This all feels like a gambit I had no idea I would play. I should have expected my allies to use me as a tool, and I cannot blame them. Of course, Sephare would not share with me information that I do not need. Of course, Jarek would do the same. The stakes are too high for us to use half-measures. It still pains me to realize that despite my efforts, I amount to little more than a pawn in this age-old game. A large pawn, I suppose, a bishop or a knight perhaps, but still a piece on the board. I could get angry and ask for more but I do not have the heart. I want to win more than I want to understand. It will still be time to grow afterward.

I spend the rest of the afternoon preparing my weapons.

“Are you ready?” Jarek asks.

We can feel it. The sun is setting. The last rays of crimson light drift away from the land. Our time is almost here.

It is night.

We burst out of the cache. We merely need to last long enough for the trap to work. We now stand near a large boulder surrounded by fallow fields, with the port and welcome shape of the Dalton’s Spirit to the right. Just as I rush out, I freeze in my tracks in surprise and so does Melusine. Only Jarek seems unaffected.

I have seen vampires being grandiose, being determined, and being brilliant. I had never before witnessed vampires being systematic.

Every five hundred yards in every direction, a sarcophagus has been planted into the ground. As we watch, perhaps thirty fighters emerge from them all across the Natalis hold. We are vastly, vastly outnumbered.

I turn to the ship, and realize that it does not rest at the pier, but easily two hundred yards out with deployed guns. We just stepped onto a battlefield.

And a massive crimson veil the size of a village, falls down to trap us in.

“Go!”

We follow Jarek at break-neck speed to the obvious core of the ritual trapping us in. Ten mages stand in a circle with battle Masters quickly assembling between us and them. They operate under the direction of a tiny woman with very dark hair. They are themselves hidden behind another shield. I recognize the mages as being mortals, but the woman leading them emits a powerful Lancaster aura that speaks of great power.

“Can you two breach the shield?” Jarek asks. We have not been intercepted yet. Instead, the masters run to each other to form hunting packs.

My first answer is to say: absolutely not. We are two mages against eleven entrenched ones, led by a clear archmage lady who is even now looking at us come to her with clear amusement. And then, I realize that I am too hasty.

There is one thing I still have.

“I can.”

“You can?” Melusine screams by my side, “do you know who that is? Only one of the most powerful Lancaster alive!”

“I can,” I assure her, “just get me close enough.”

The masters arrayed before us form a single line bristling with soul weapons and spells and enchanted pieces of gear.

Jarek accelerates beyond anything I thought possible and crashes into them, sending them reeling through sheer inertia. Many of the Masters bump harmlessly against the shield before sliding down. It did not even waver.

As Jarek and Melusine fend off attackers, I approach and take out a flare gun from one of my smaller holsters, firing it against the shield. The burst of blue light rises high as the skies, past the red barrier holding us in. As expected, the obstacle only affects vampires, not magic or things.

The Lancaster lady smiles broadly, baring her fangs. Her condescending gaze turns to Melusine who is now bleeding heavily from her right arm after an unfavorable exchange.

“You keep strange company, descendant of mine. I will have to discipline you thoroughly when we are done here. Was this supposed to accomplish anything?”

“Actually,” I say, interrupting her, “it was more a code than a true attack.”

The possibility of defeat never enters her mind, and so she bends a bit forward and asks me with the tone of the teacher humoring the class idiot.

“And what kind of code are we talking about?”

Behind us, three very loud, very recognizable detonations make the air tremble.

“In Dvergur, it means ‘fire for effect’.”

I absolutely love the way her arrogant expression melts into outrage and fear as the incendiary projectile devastates her shield, opening it, and sending all ten mages to the ground with bleeding eyes and ears.

“You will pay for this!” she screams as she tries to protect them from the spreading flames.

The dome fragments and disintegrates.

“You have run afoul of the dread pirate Ari—”

“No time for this,” Jarek screams, “here, take it!”

He gives me a strange circular object that looks like a canister with spaces left to write. Only one of the five spaces has letters on it, red as blood. The identity of the traitor.

I grab it and place it in my powder charge stachel, but we are too late.

We are surrounded. The master packs have gathered around and lords have joined the fray, the auras around us burn with anger and aggression.

“It can only end one way,” someone says.

I keep quiet as Jarek steps forward, alone. He slowly unbuckles his shoulder plate and lets it fall to the ground with a loud thud. Dust rises from the sleeping earth.

“You are right, it can only end one way. One more Natalis will fall tonight, outnumbered, because we are too dumb and too naive to see from whence the wind blows. It is already over. I cannot win.”

The second pauldron and his chest plate join the growing pile at his feet.

“With that said, I am also dumb enough to have… reservations about this whole affair. You see, one should not trample on another one’s home without some retribution, without some foretaste of the reckoning that will come one future night for the actions of this one. And there will be a reckoning, and I tell you now, I will be there for it.”

“Enough theatrics, old man, fight, or do not fight.”

“I never said there would be a fight. At least, not for you. Magna Arqa.”

Pressure. Crushing, overwhelming pressure. I gasp, hiccup, fall to my knees. Melusine collapses. The Masters struggle and lurch. Only Jarek remains standing. The very air turns blurry. I want to speak, to tell him to stop. I cannot.

How is this possible? How can this power compare to that of others? How can there be such a gap between lords? Jarek is a bloody monster.

“You need to leave, Ariane. Take Melusine with you, I will open the way.”

It takes all my effort to climb back to my feet and help Melusine to hers. We lumber to the line of fighters before us.

Jarek contemptuously sweeps his hand to the side, and the shadow of a giant’s limb swats them, sending them flying like so many pins. We go through.

I turn around one last time to see Jarek step calmly to someone in the distance. I see a warrior in a crimson plate armor with a battle mask that looks like a theater prop, complete with a beard of wrought silver steel. None other can stand before the two of them.

The man in red materializes a massive, two-handed war axe as dark as the void.

“Magna Arqa.”

Strings, strange veins cover his body until even the plate he wears gains an organic quality that dead materials should not have. The two titans smash into each other, sending shockwaves across the battlefields. Masters are pushed away, lords walk back. Jarek and the man I recognize as Bertrand are forces of nature. We cannot make a difference in that struggle.

Melusine and I finally exit the area of effect of their combined powers. We sprint away without a word.

One team managed to circumvent the colossal fight. They are after us. We take the northern exit to the hold with them after us.

“Cover?” Melusine asks.

“Darkness,” I immediately say. A cloud of blindness and silence spreads around us.

“Inferno!”

A line of crimson extends behind us, slightly longer on one side than the other. Flames rise up as high as three men as we make our escape, or try to.

I feel it. The most powerful aura behind us is the first to cross the hurdle, soon followed by others. The multiple foes disappear from my perception as they accelerate towards us.

Scouts. They have been selected for speed and discretion, and Melusine is wounded, slower.

We keep going and I wait for the inevitable. I do not have to wait long.

Pushing my intuition to its maximum, I twist on myself and cast. The Master sneaking on us shows no trace of surprise as they slow down, bodies covered by a nebulous cloak that hides their features.

“Promethean.”

The first chain forces a dodge, the second strikes right where I knew they would dodge. They still avoid it by collapsing on themselves in a strange motion.

Rose hits them clear in the chest, doing catastrophic damage. The downside of speed is lousy armor, and it shows. My lucky hit takes them out of the fight.

“Darkness,” I say immediately, and my trap works. Another attacker is goaded into rushing forward, unaware that Melusine and I have reversed course.

“Fire bolt.”

“Blood bolt.”

We time our spells and strikes to overwhelm her quickly. On a heavily armored opponent, such light attacks would not distract them enough to justify the wasted motion. On the leather-armored woman after us, however, the result is immediate. Her gear is not up to the task and she is soon covered in painful wounds. We disable her just as the last Master and the lady emerge from the woods.

The Master wears a mask and dark cloth armor, with a sinuous build and twin maces in his hands. The lady’s garb is different, with plenty of pockets and harnesses. Her light build and average beauty gives her a forgettable look that I am certain she uses for spying. She opens by flourishing a strange curved blade as my darkness spell dissipates.

I dodge to the side and a thrown knife still bites deep against the edge of the battle mask. I block the next two with an armguard, preventing them from drawing blood.

I soon have to forfeit defending Melusine in favor of saving myself. Thankfully, she has healed enough to use her foil again. The lady is a Hastings, and the only saving grace here as our speeds are almost evenly matched.

The issue is that she clearly knows how to fight fast opponents and I am immediately hard-pressed. Distractions, tricks, and misdirection are her main weapons. Without my intuition, I would have fallen in ten exchanges. As it is, I am barely hanging there by the skin of my teeth by using her own daggers against her and every spell in my repertoire. I cast a bind, then a flay and force her back, only for her to throw enchanted bolas that I have to fend off with my claws. Her ability to distract does not even anger me. In fact, I am quite impressed. WORTHY PREY. SMART HUNTER. I will take her down yet.

I keep changing tactics to prevent her from adapting too much. I keep at a distance and pepper her with bolts, but she wears enchanted mail under her dark coveralls, and the attack fails to pierce. I charge her and we exchange fast blows. I am outmatched. Close quarter is clearly her domain of expertise. I receive a deep slash on my right thigh for my trouble. A point-blank range flay spell forces her back and I use Rose at medium range to pressure her.

It works. My training with Nami is paying off intensely as she has taught me how to keep someone back, being an expert at it herself. I strike where she will be instead of where she is, and use Rose’s ability to expand to its full potential. She is pushed back and is running out of tricks. I even force a magical explosion on her flank when one of my bolts hits something she had gone to grab, her pockets working against her now. SHOW ME MORE, LITTLE PREY. She appears to disengage and throws her last dagger at me. Her tactic works against her when I grab one from the air and send it against the back of the enemy Master, helping a struggling Melusine.

“Magna Arqa.”

She disappears.

Hours upon hours of ingrained practice let me react before I can even think. I retract Rose and place her before me, close my eyes, and focus on my intuition. The strain is immense, yet I succeed once more.

Right and behind.

One step to the back, a sweeping downward blow. The lady stumbles back with her chest cleaved diagonally. Surprise finally shows on her face and she falls on her back, her heart still intact, but her innards spilling on the black earth. The damage is gruesome.

I WIN.

I hiss in triumph. I did it. I disabled a lady! And a real—

My aura flares. The sensation defies description, like a volcano or a pot boiling over. It escapes my control.

My own aura escapes my control.

The absolute impossibility of this fact stuns me and forces me to my knees as all my strength flees in the air. What… Is that an attack? But no…

Dark roots and spiked tendrils erupt from the earth, from rocks, they surround me and twist as they search for prey. They find blood but… I did not call them. I do not want them. I do not need them!

They stole all my strength!

I gasp, prone against the ground. It hurts. It hurts as much as when Dalton died and no amount of breathing and feeding could fend off the horrible hollow he left behind. I have been forcefully drained of every ounce of vitality I possessed. I am an empty shell, and I cannot even follow the end of the fight! There are blurry moves and a male cry, I taste just a bit of essence and then, Melusine leans by my side. She has dragged two bodies with her. There is blood on her flank, her cheek.

“You have to stop it Ariane. Stop it.”

“I don’t know how!”

And it does not matter. As fast as the phenomenon came, it disappears and the roots flash into nothingness. I am left lying on the ground, lacking the strength to even stand up. I can only gulp air to alleviate the pain.

“Can you stand?”

“No!”

I could not do it to save my life. There is nothing to draw on.

“Hold on. There could be something.”

Melusine rummages through the lord’s effects and takes out a vial from around her neck.

“We are in luck. One drop for you.”

Pain. Humiliation. Shackles that never fall. I want to die.

Likaean essence. I am saved.

Slowly, carefully, I push myself to a sitting position. That was… I have been betrayed by my own soul? CONFUSION. Hide not thy poison with such sugared words, myself? What gives?

“We have no time for introspection,” Melusine says curtly as she lets the tiniest amount of blood on her tongue. She helps me up.

“Wait, please,” the lady says. She has one more wound on her leg where a root grabbed her.

“Let me have the rest, so that I bring my team to safety, lest the sun takes us.”

“Will you not be found? Night has just fallen.”

“I would rather not rely on it. You would have my gratitude, and I promise not to pursue you this night and the next.”

Melusine shrugs. I nod.

“Alright.”

We help her and leave immediately. Fortunately, no other team follows us and we race northward along the shore. I finally find a suitable spot and Melusine and I create a spell circle to hide ourselves from basic tracking. I use a two-way beacon to try and reach a mage on the Spirit of Dalton.

“Hmm?”

“Felix, is that you? We need you to come get us.”

The man yawns, obviously exhausted.

“Okay,” he says, then breaks the spell.

“Hsss.”

“One day, you will have to let go of your anger, Ariane. Accept that the word is here to stay.”

“Never!”

Only a few minutes later, my ship sails before us. A rowing boat is pulled down and sailors drive it close to the shore. A standing figure with a nice moustache and twin revolvers on his hips tips his hat as we approach.

“You ladies need a ride?”