The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI Read online

  The tavern keeper gazed at the stranger in triumph. The effect of a vampyr bite was near-instantaneous, injecting poison upon the first break in the skin. It quickly immobilized, paralyzing prey much like a spider. And the vampyr, like the spider, could then feed at leisure. The creature could sate its bloodlust, then transform or kill its hapless victim.

  But the vampyr’s bite seemed to have no effect at all on the woman pinning the innkeeper. She had not even flinched at the painful attack but rather had secured her grip so she could not be bitten again. And as time ticked by and the vampyr waited for her to weaken, such a thing did not happen. And the taste that was in the vampyr’s mouth, the blood that she licked from her own lips, was something extraordinary.

  “What are you?” the keeper muttered.

  “Something far more dangerous than a vampyr, I assure you.”

  Raine struck the woman with her free forearm, such a massive blow it would have crushed a normal skull. But this was not a normal creature, and although the blow rendered her unconscious, it did not kill her. Raine released the innkeeper and she fell to the floor, sprawling in an ungainly position. Screams from the main hall pierced the air, and Raine rushed through the door.

  The female vampyr held the little girl clutched to her chest. The cry of pain of her male companion had warned her that, impossibly, things were not going well in the bedroom, so she chose a most cowardly defense. Raine stopped in her tracks, afraid for the little girl. The woman was clenching her small frame so tightly the girl was turning blue.

  “Help me!” the creature cried to the thrall, who dumbly began to get to her feet.

  Judging by the insane fury in the creature’s eyes, Raine knew there was no negotiating with the vampyr. So she flipped the dagger in her hand then hurled it with tremendous force so that it pierced the woman in the throat and pinned her to the wall. Simultaneously, an arrow pierced the right arm, then another the left, so that the little girl scrambled free and ran to her mother. Then two more arrows struck down the thrall. Raine glanced to the doorway where Feyden stood, having already notched a third arrow, poised should it be needed.

  It was not. The vampyr struggled and gurgled, but could not free herself from the impaled objects. Lorifal strode over to the creature, his great axe resting on his shoulder.

  “Is this your ‘messenger?’”

  Raine shook her head. “No, there’s another in the bedroom.”

  “Good,” Lorifal said, and with a tremendous swing of his axe, he decapitated the creature. The head screamed as it fell to the ground, smoked, then turned to a small heap of black ash. The body emitted black smoke, then it, too, turned to ash which fell to the floor. There was the shape of a headless body outlined in black on the wall.

  “And this one?” Lorifal asked.

  “That’s just a thrall. Put her out of her misery.” And the great axe did so, creating another pile of black ash. Feyden retrieved the arrows impaled in the wall, checked them for their integrity, then slid them back into his quiver.

  Raine turned to the serving woman who was clutching both children to her.

  “Are there any more of them?

  “No,” the woman said, trembling.

  “Are any of you bitten?” Raine asked, glancing meaningfully to the little girl.

  “No,” the woman said, shaking her head. “I checked her. And she shows no signs.” The woman looked fearfully at Raine’s forearm, where the reddened, swollen wound was clearly visible. “But you were.”

  Raine glanced at the wound, dismissing it. “They cannot harm me,” she said, then corrected herself. “Well, they can harm me as that did hurt. But they cannot turn me.”

  “How is that possible?” the woman asked. Although there were enchantments that could ward off the vampyrism, and poultices that could stop the spread if applied quickly enough, she did not know of anyone who could ignore a vampyr’s bite without consequence.

  “The gods watch over me,” Raine said, but there was a trace of sarcasm in her voice. One god in particular watched over her, but that malevolent attention was not protective in nature.

  “How long have you been here?” Feyden asked.

  “I—, I’m not sure,” the woman said. “I think it has been several months. Those foul creatures took us, and they cut me….” She held out her arms for inspection, revealing numerous small slices across the veins, “and they…”

  She trailed off again, unable to continue, but Raine understood. The vampyres had kept her alive and captive to feed off her.

  “Did they harm your children?”

  “No, but that seemed only a matter of time.”

  Raine was relieved. By the look in that man’s eyes, that time was almost upon that little girl.

  “We’ll get you to safety. Gather your things.”

  The woman and children went into a small room off to the side, returning a short time later with a pitiful amount of belongings, barely a bundle. Raine took one last look in on the unconscious innkeeper, and Feyden peered over her shoulder.

  “Should I ask why that one is naked?”

  “I have to use whatever tactics present themselves,” Raine replied, a trace of color in her cheeks. “You know how unpredictable these creatures are.”

  Raine donned her armor, dragged the innkeeper out of the tavern, then burned the building to the ground. Feyden and Lorifal both carried a child and Raine half-carried the woman. They reached a small village by morning, delivering the family to safety. Raine tossed the woman a bag of coin that would feed her children for ten years, and waved off her gratitude, simply warning her to remain silent about what she had seen. She did not want the woman to be one of her “messengers” who would not survive once they told their story. When out of sight of the village, they set up a small campsite to rest and eat. Raine began to dress the wound from the vampyr’s bite.

  “Let me help you,” Feyden said. He applied the ointment that Elyara had provided them. Elyara was a wood elf whereas Feyden was of the Alfar, the high elves that lived on Mount Alfheim. Feyden’s skills were of the deadly variety, lethal with a bow and sword, whereas Elyara was a talented mage and healer. She knew they would be dealing with the undead and had provided a poultice that would deal with their bite.

  “Do you think this would help Lorifal or me if we were bitten?” Feyden asked.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure. Vampyrism is half-disease, half-magic. Elyara said this ointment deals with the physical disease. The enchantments she provided you two,” she said, nodding at the gold necklaces that each wore, “will ward off the magical curse. But she was not certain that either would work with a very powerful vampyr, which hopefully we will find at the end of this.”

  And they most certainly would find such a creature, Feyden thought, if Raine continued to leave her messengers behind. She planted seeds of information so that the survivors would spread tales of a reckless stranger who was looking for the Shadow Guild. And there was no danger in letting those vampyres live because the moment the Shadow Guild found them, they would be killed for mentioning their name, even if they had no idea what that name meant.

  “And they seem to like my blood,” Raine said, examining the bandage with admiration.

  “Is that part of your trap? More bait?” Feyden asked. There was no doubt in his mind that Raine had let the vampyr bite her, knowing that she could easily have prevented the injury.

  “Yes,” Raine said. “A little intrigue to the stories. Someone looking for the Shadow Guild, who somehow is immune to the vampyr bite, and who—,” she paused looking for an adequate description, then laughed.

  “And someone who tastes really good.”

  Chapter 2

  The imperial guards watched the two hooded figures closely. They were milling about the outer courtyard of the palace, and although the courtyard was not necessarily a restricted area, these t
wo seemed suspicious and out-of-place. First off, they were completely cloaked with no distinguishing characteristics visible. Secondly, they were extremely tall, standing nearly head-and-shoulders over everyone in the vicinity. Thirdly, the outline of their cloaks revealed they were carrying swords, again, not illegal but a cause for heightened scrutiny given the two previous factors. Finally, they moved with a dangerous grace, the kind of athleticism that was born on the battlefield, not in recreational activities.

  The chief guard finally had enough. There were constant rumors of assassination attempts directed at the Emperor, and he was not going to see those rumors come true on his watch. He waved for several guards to accompany him, then walked over and confronted the two.

  “What is your business here in the capital?” he demanded coldly.

  “We are meeting with an imperial knight.”

  The chief was surprised the voice was female, given the size of the person. Still he was not taking any chances. “You will remove your cloaks and identify yourselves.”

  The demand was not unreasonable, but the tone was unnecessarily harsh. And the fact that the chief guard grabbed the arm of the woman roughly was a mistake. The second, taller of the two figures removed her cloak with a flourish and drew her sword at the same time, the maneuvers performed so swiftly the sword materialized beneath the chief’s chin before he could react.

  “You will take your hands from her now.”

  The chief stared up at the woman as the guards accompanying him drew their swords in alarm. She was striking, fine patrician features tensed with intensity, full lips pursed in a frown, brown eyes dark with warning. She wore full armor, gold and red with a gleaming raised eagle on her chest. The other woman, the one who had spoken first, put her hand on her companion’s forearm.

  “Calm yourself, Rika.”

  The chief released his grip and stepped back as she, too, removed her cloak. He was flabbergasted. She was just as stunning as the first, with flashing dark eyes, shoulder-length dark hair, and chiseled features. She, too, wore the gold and red armor and although he could not place the emblem, the quality of the workmanship was astonishing.

  “What is going on here?”

  The chief guard was greatly relieved to see the Knight Commander striding towards them. She was a formidable person and would somewhat offset the overpowering presence of these two strangers. Her next words, however, chilled him to the bone.

  “Why are you accosting the Royal Princess of the Ha’kan?” she demanded angrily.

  The man turned bright red and began to sputter, but Dallan saved him.

  “It’s our fault, Nerthus. We sought to travel in obscurity and did not announce ourselves. He was simply doing his job.”

  The pale skin of the Knight Commander was ruddy with anger. “Not very well,” she said with a contemptuous stare. “And you will keep the identity of these travelers secret.” The man shifted in confused embarrassment. Fortunately, in this instance, the Knight Commander’s anger was as quick to dissipate as it was to rise, for otherwise her temper was legendary. She relented and waved him off. “You are dismissed.”

  The men did not move, however, and just stood staring at the two women. None had ever seen the Ha’kan before. They rarely left their own land, although with the re-opening of the Garmlain trade routes, sightings had been more frequent. But rumors of the beautiful, all-female race abounded. They were said to be highly sexual, non-monogamous creatures who considered talent in the bedroom as important as any other talent in their society. Their culture thrived on the interlocking sexual relationships of their people. And this was the Princess of the Ha’kan, the living embodiment of all of those rumors. The men stood with their mouths open.

  “You are dismissed,” Nerthus repeated, this time more loudly.

  “Oh,” the chief said, turning bright red. “I beg your pardon, your Highness.” He bowed, tripped, stumbled, then turned around and ran headlong into his men who were also disassembling in various awkward ways. The throng lurched away in a tangled mess.

  Dallan grinned, a dazzling smile that seemed to brighten the courtyard. She grasped forearms with the Knight Commander, an informal greeting that the chief did not miss as he glanced back over his shoulder. Nerthus was a stickler for formality and thrived on protocol, so the greeting was extraordinary on many levels. The Knight Commander turned to Rika, who placed her hand on Nerthus’ shoulder.

  “Future First General,” Nerthus said with a respect she showed few. These women were much younger than her but they had impressed her.

  “Knight Commander,” Rika said, also grinning. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Is Raine with you?” Nerthus asked.

  “No,” Dallan replied. “Not yet. From what I understand, she’s out killing the undead. But I think she will be here on the morrow. And Idonea will be here soon as well.”

  This caused a mild flush in the Knight Commander’s pale cheeks, and Dallan carefully controlled her expression. Idonea was a wild one and the Knight Commander had a substantial crush on her. Dallan’s countenance sobered a little when she thought of her next words. “We are to have a strategy meeting at Fireside tomorrow night. You will come?”

  Nerthus nodded. “Of course. In the meantime, do you wish to be presented to the Emperor? Do you need accommodations?”

  “We are not here in any formal capacity,” Dallan said, “so I would prefer to lie low if possible.”

  “My men are loyal,” Nerthus said, glancing to the pack that was still stealing glances at the Ha’kan while pretending to ignore them. “So I think they will keep their mouths shut. If word of your presence gets out, however, the Emperor will expect to receive you with honors.”

  “Understood,” Dallan said. “And we do not need lodging because we’ll be staying at Fireside.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Nerthus said. Fireside was the most luxurious private residence in all of the empire, rivaled only by that of the imperial palace. The owner was a mystery to most, and Nerthus had been shocked to learn that Raine, whom she thought was a mercenary adventurer, owned it outright. Once she got to know Raine, however, the ownership and its anonymity made perfect sense.

  Chapter 3

  Signe, my love, where are you?”

  The young woman looked up. She was getting used to the name, although she still had no specific memory of it. Things were growing more familiar to her, but it was the familiarity of a few weeks, not that of a lifetime. Apparently she had taken a nasty spill from a horse and hit her head. When she awoke, she could not remember anything. “I’m here,” she called out.

  A lovely woman entered the room. She had fine, white hair that framed youthful features, and a pink blush in her cheeks that matched her pink lips. Her stylish gown flattered her curvaceous, supple figure. The younger woman looked at her in admiration as she settled onto the settee next to her, pressing against her.

  “And how is your memory today?” the woman asked as she brushed light blonde hair from hazel eyes. “Is anything returning?”

  The younger woman paused a little as the other held her breath. “No,” she confessed, “not really.” The words then came tumbling out. “I feel terrible. I should know you. You are so kind and so wonderful, and clearly we have been—”

  “Shhh,” the woman said, placing her finger to the girl’s lips. “Do not struggle so. In fact,” she said brightly, “I have come to a decision.”

  “What decision is that?”

  “I think that you and I should start anew. The doctor said your memory may never return, so instead of forcing you to remember all the happiness that we have had, I think we should just make a new happiness.”

  The younger woman smiled a little shyly. “I think I would like that.”

  The older woman’s deep blue eyes darkened with intensity. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

 
The woman leaned forward and gently kissed the girl, and the younger woman hesitantly returned the kiss. This felt right, felt familiar, and the hesitant kiss grew more confident while the older woman’s grew bolder. They turned to one another and the girl’s hands went tentatively to the woman’s waist while the woman’s hand slowly undid the buttons of the girl’s shirt. The hand went inside the shirt and caressed the breast, causing the girl to start.

  The woman withdrew slightly from the lips but not the shirt. “Is this okay?” she asked with kind concern.

  “Yes,” the girl said, then with growing assurance. “This is fine.”

  “Good,” the woman said, then leaned forward and kissed her again. This time the tongue parted her lips and gently probed her mouth as the hand caressed her breast. The hand slowly moved down the slender torso, the well-defined muscles of the stomach, then gently worked their way into the top of the silken breeches. The fingers brushed the sensitivity between the girl’s legs and she again started, but this time the woman did not pull away but kissed her deeper, eliciting a moan in the girl’s throat as her fingers entangled themselves in the long, white hair. The woman pushed her backward onto the couch as the fingers began to work their magic between her legs. She responded from instinct rather than memory, and the hips moved beneath the skilled stroking of the fingers. It seemed her body had a mind of its own as it obeyed the tongue and caresses of the woman on top of her. And finally, there was an explosion of sensation that rippled outward from her center as the circular strokes brought her to a forceful climax while the woman held onto her.

  The girl’s breathing came in short gasps until it steadied, then began to slow. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. That felt very familiar.

  “Are you all right?” the woman asked, pleased. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “Oh no,” the young woman responded, “that was wonderful. Thank you.”