“I’ll scale the walls, find Golgoleth, and cut his bastard head off!”
“Just like that?” I asked him, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice.
He swore then, and for a moment I thought he would strike me. Instead he turned his head and took a deep breath. Then he spoke. “Do you think I want to do this, Owen?” he said, not looking at me. “But you heard him. He says he can find me anywhere, and Megan tells me that is true. So what do I do? Wait until his Vampyre army enters the forest? Wait until the entire land is peopled by the undead? No.”
“Have you considered the possibility that he wants you to come to him? That it was why he appeared to you?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And how do you intend fighting off a hundred Vampyres, a thousand?”
“I shall enter the city in sunlight and find him before dark.”
“That will not help you greatly,” said Megan. “Forget the legends, Jarek. Vampyres do not like sunlight, but they can bear it. There will be sentries, hooded against the glare of the sun. And there will be men who have been spared—evil men, who are now servants of Golgoleth. They also will patrol the walls.”
“Then offer me a different plan!” he stormed.
“I cannot,” admitted Megan.
“Then it is settled. I’ll leave at dawn.”
“Alone?” I asked him.
He laughed then, the sound harsh and bitter. “No, I’ll ask for volunteers to accompany me, Owen.” He sneered. “Everyone loves the Morningstar. I’m sure they’ll all want to come.”
I wanted to offer, I desperately desired to find the strength to stand beside him. But at that moment I could not. My mouth was dry, my hands trembling. I looked away then.
“I’m going to get a couple of hours sleep,” said Mace, rising from the chair and moving to the pallet bed in the corner of the room. Megan did not move; she sat staring into the dying fire, lost in thought.
I needed fresh air, for my stomach felt queasy. I walked outside to find Wulf, Piercollo, Astiana, and Ilka all sitting together in the moonlight. Silently I joined them.
“Did she talk him out of it?” asked Wulf.
“No.”
“It’s all over, then.” said the hunchback, staring down at the ground.
“It is so foolish,” put in Astiana. “He is throwing his life away.”
Ilka’s sweet voice whispered into my mind. “What will you do, Owen?”
I looked across at her and swallowed hard. I’d had time to gather my thoughts and my courage. “I’ll go with him,” I said aloud.
She smiled and nodded. “As will I.”
“I can’t do it,” said Wulf. “I want to, mind. Truly I do, but I can’t.”
“I will come also,” said Piercollo. “He rescued me from the torture. I owe him.”
Corlan approached with Brackban, Raul Raubert, and Scrymgeour. I stood and waited for them. It was Brackban who spoke first.
“We need to see the Morningstar.” he said.
“He is resting. Can it wait?”
“No. Everyone is terrified, on the verge of panic. Already we’ve lost fifty men. They just packed their belongings and fled into the forest.”
“What do you expect Mace to do?”
“Talk to them,” said Raul. “Inspire them with a strong speech—give them back their courage.”
“It is the wrong time, my friends,” I told them softly. “Mace is resting. And he needs that rest. Tomorrow he intends to enter the city and slay the Vampyre kings.”
“May God preserve us!” said Corlan, amazed. “Has he lost his mind?”
“No.”
“Does he … intend to go alone?”
“Yes.” I could see the relief in the outlaw’s face, and he read my thoughts.
“Do you think me a coward?” he asked.
“Far from it,” I said swiftly. “No man would relish the thought of entering Ziraccu. But I have spoken to Mace, and I think he is right. What else can we do? We could run, but they will come after us. We could hide, but they would find us.”
“He is a man of courage,” said Brackban, “but answer me this: Even if you get into the city and kill the kings, what then? How do you get out?”
“I don’t think Mace is concerned with getting out.”
We stood in silence then, and I watched their faces: Corlan, hawklike yet fearful; Brackban, strong, deep in thought; Raul Raubert, the nobleman, young and naïve, his expression troubled; and Scrymgeour, his feelings masked.
It was Raul Raubert who broke the silence. “I shall accompany him.” he said, his voice shaking.
“Why?” I asked.
“I am a knight,” he answered.
“What in hell’s name does that mean?” roared Corlan.
Raul was taken aback by the force of the words. “I … I don’t understand you.”
“You’re no better than me—just because you were born on silk sheets. A knight, you say? So you’ve had your shoulder tapped with a king’s sword. So what? You’re only a man like me.”
“I know that,” said Raul gently, “but there are vows that a knight makes on the eve of the king’s blessing. You know what I am saying, Owen. Can you explain it?”
I sighed. “A knight pledges to support the king and to defend the weak against the strength of evil. It was a vow laid down in law after Rabain destroyed Golgoleth.”
“Rabain and the knights,” corrected Raul.
“Yes, exactly. Rabain was said to have stormed the gray keep, leading the knights of the White Order.”
“So you see,” said Raul to Corlan, “I have to go. I don’t want to. But I have to.”
I could see the torment in Corlan’s eyes, and I knew what he was going through. He longed to make the same offer, but like myself in the cabin with Mace, he could not find the courage.
“I know what you are thinking,” I said to the outlaw. “You would like to go. But bear this in mind. Some of the leaders must stay or all the men will drift away.”
I saw him relax, and he smiled his thanks. Then he shook his head. “Brackban will stay. He is a leader of men. Me? I’m just a … a soldier. But I also made an oath. I took the soul fire into my veins. I swore to follow the Morningstar. And I’ll do it. By God, I’ll do it!”
When Mace emerged, the dawn light was seeping over the forest and the air was rich and fresh, the sky bright and cloudless, the last stars fading against the brightness of the sun. He moved into the doorway, tall and impressive, longbow in hand. He was wearing a dark brown leather jerkin over a shirt of white wool, leaf-green leggings, and knee-length doehide moccasins. He saw us and moved forward, his face expressionless.
“Come to bid me good luck?” he inquired.
“We’re coming with you,” I said.
“All the way?” he asked, a cynical smile accompanying the words.
“All the way,” agreed Corlan. “To the gates of hell and beyond.”
Mace said nothing, but his eyes raked the group, pausing on Raul Raubert, then sweeping onto Piercollo, Ilka, and myself. “A motley group of heroes,” said Mace, but the smile now was genuine. “Well, let us be on our way.”
We set off across the village toward the south and found Megan waiting at the edge of the trees. Mace halted before her. “I could do with a blessing,” he said softly.
“For what is worth, you have it,” she said, stepping forward and resting her hands on his shoulders. “I will be with you—not in the flesh but close by in the spirit. I cannot fight Golgoleth, but I can guide you and warn you of enemies close by. Now be warned—the Vampyres are fast and strong. They cannot be slain by iron or steel. The enchanted blades will destroy them. Or fire. Nothing else.” Turning to Piercollo, she smiled. “Your great strength will avail you nothing, Tuscanian. You must carry a weapon.”
“I will find something,” he said.
Megan swung to face the rest of us. “You are about to confront enemies of supernatural powers. They are cunning, powerful
, and infinitely evil. All goodness is gone from the Vampyres. They live only to feed, and they strike faster than you would believe possible. But they can do more. They can enter your hearts and make you fear them, and with that fear comes a slowing of the reflexes, a dulling of the mind. Do not engage in conversation with any of them. Faced with a Vampyre, you must kill it quickly. This may seem obvious to you now, but hold the thought in your minds. With the Vampyre kings it is even more necessary. They are also sorcerers of great power, they can be slain only by decapitation.”
“That’s an inspiring little speech,” said Mace.
“I am sorry,” Megan told him, “but it is better to know what you face.”
Mace sighed but said nothing more. Raul Raubert stepped forward.
“I think we should begin this … quest … with a prayer,” he said. “Let us kneel.”
I knew Mace had little faith in any god, yet he was the first to drop to one knee. The others followed until only I remained standing. Raul looked up at me. I felt foolish standing there and joined them. “Lord of all things,” said Raul, his voice deep and solemn, “be with your servants this day. Make our hearts pure as we face evil. Make our limbs strong as we fight your enemies. And deliver us from the power of the dark Amen.”
As we rose, Brackban and several of the officers approached us, Astiana with them. She moved alongside Mace. “May God be with you,” she said.
“There is a first time for everything,” he replied, forcing a smile.
Brackban reached out and took Mace’s hand. “Good luck to you, Morningstar,” he whispered.
“Don’t look so solemn,” Mace told him. “We’ll be back.”
Wulf came running across the clearing, longbow in hand.
“Where do you think you are going, little man?” Mace asked him.
“To Ziraccu,” answered the hunchback, scowling. “And don’t ask me why, because I don’t know.”
“The possibility of stupidity should not be ruled out,” quoted Mace.
Wulf grunted an obscenity that made us smile, and then Mace led us off toward the southeast.
The day was bright, but the clouds were gathering to the north, dark and gloomy. In the distance we could hear the far-off rumble of thunder. I walked alongside Ilka, holding to her hand. I had tried to dissuade her from accompanying us, but she had been adamant.
“I would worry about you,” I told her.
“And I, you,” came her voice in my mind. “But let us face it, Owen, I am a better fighter than you. At least with me there, you’ll have someone to protect you.”
It was a compelling argument, and I felt a little ashamed for accepting it. But in all honesty I was pleased she was there, and with the threat of death so close, I did not want to miss a single moment of her company.
We walked through most of the morning, halting for a brief lunch just after noon. Then we were on our way again, coming in sight of Ziraccu at dusk. The city was silent, the gates locked. But we could see sentries upon the walls, and I wondered what manner of men could agree so readily to serve the needs of the undead. Had they no heart, no conscience? What could they have been offered to make them become servants of evil?
But there was no answer to such a question. There never is. The workings of an evil mind cannot be gauged.
We made camp in a hollow and lit a small fire against a south-facing rock wall where the light could not be seen from the city. There was little conversation at first, for we all faced our fears in our own way. Ilka, whose talent was growing, could touch the minds of all the company, feeling their thoughts. Raul was thinking about his family and brighter, happier days in the north country. Corlan’s mind was roaming back over all the dark deeds he had committed, while Wulf was remembering his wife and lost children. Piercollo was recalling days of sunshine and grape harvesting in Tuscania, while Mace was quietly planning his route to the central palace.
“Why do you love me?” asked Ilka suddenly.
“You make my soul complete,” I whispered, drawing her in close to me, feeling her head resting on my shoulder, her lips against the skin of my neck.
“You are a romantic, Owen Odell. How will you feel when I am old, wrinkled, and white-haired?”
“To arrive at that point will mean that we have walked life together, and I will be content. I will have watched each white hair arrive. That will be enough for me.”
And we talked long into the night. I told her of my father and brothers and of our estates by the south coast. She in turn spoke of her life. Her mother had died when Ilka was six, and she had been raised by Wulf’s older brother and his wife. He had died in a hunting accident, gored to death by a wild bull. After that Wulf had supplied food for the family. Of her rape and mutilation she said nothing, and I did not press her. Better by far, I thought, for those memories to be buried deep, covered by layer after layer of love and friendship.
At last we slept, all save Mace, who sat by the fire deep in thought.
Two hours before dawn he woke me, and I rose silently, not disturbing Ilka. Mace walked away from the campsite, climbing a hill and sitting upon a fallen tree, staring out over the walls of the distant city.
“It will be simple to get in,” he said. “Getting out is an altogether different question.”
“Let’s worry about that when we’ve killed the kings,” I suggested.
He chuckled. “You have great faith in our abilities, bard.”
“Well, I don’t think this is the time to concern ourselves with failure.”
“True.” He glanced back toward the campsite. “Why did they come?”
“I can’t answer for them all. Raul is here because he is a knight and is sworn to fight against evil; also, he made an oath to you. Corlan is here because he would not allow Raul to appear superior to him. Ilka came because of me. Piercollo owes you his life, and Wulf loves you like a brother. As for me, why, I also came because of you.”
“Me? Why?”
“This may sound trite, Jarek, but I believe in the Morningstar. I always did. It doesn’t matter that you do not. What is important is what they believe,” I said, my arm sweeping out to encompass the forest. “All those people in need of a hero. You are that man; they will remember you all their lives. And in a thousand years they will speak of you as they speak now of Rabain. Who knows, one day perhaps there will be an outlaw standing in this forest who will wonder if he is like the Morningstar.”
“This isn’t a song, Owen. In all probability we’ll die today.”
“It will still be a song, Jarek. A great song.”
“I hope you are here to sing it,” he said, the smile returning. “But more important than that, I want to be around to hear it, too.”
Back at the camp the others were awake, sitting silently waiting for Mace.
“Well,” said Wulf as we approached, “what is the plan?”
“There is a storm outfall by the south wall. It branches off through the city sewers, and there are three exits close to the palace. We’ll make our way to the first, find the kings, kill them, then get out the same way.”
None of us believed it would be that simple, but only Raul Raubert spoke. “There are portcullis gates across the outfall,” he said, “and the entrance is sure to be guarded.”
“Then keep your hand upon your blade,” answered Mace.
A figure moved from the undergrowth, and Mace leapt to his feet with sword in hand, only to relax as he saw that it was Megan. The old woman was wearing a hooded cloak of soft gray wool and carried a long staff of knobbed oak.
“I thought you were remaining in the village,” said Mace, sheathing his blade and leading her to the fireside.
“So did I,” she answered “but I need to be closer to the city. My powers are weaker than I realized.”
None of us spoke for a while, and I sat beside Megan and looked into her face. She was tired—bone-weary. I laid my hand uponherarm. “I want to thank you,” I said softly, “for all you have done for me.” r />
She nodded absently, then took a deep breath. “Gather around,” she ordered us. One by one we sat before her, all except Mace, who stood back with hand on sword hilt. “When we talk of good or evil in a man,” she began, “we do not think of the flesh or the muscle. We speak of the soul. And every man living is capable of both great evil and great good. The soul is like a fire with two colors of flame, white and red. The holy man will build the white. But the red is always there, waiting.”
“We have no time for this,” said Mace.
“Be patient, Morningstar,” she chided him. “Now, the Vampyre is a changed being; he has had the white drawn out of him, and he burns with the red. There is nothing of the white fire within him, nothing that can give birth to kindness, love, or caring. He exists only for himself, only to gratify his appetites. You all know that Vampyres feed on blood. That is not quite true. Blood is life. They feed on the white, and the more they feed, the stronger they become. It is not that they have no souls, but they burn with a different light; they feed on innocence and purity. That is why there will be evil men within that city untouched by the Vampyres, working alongside them. There is so little of the pure spirit within them that there is nothing for the Vampyres to feed on.
“I know you all, your strengths and weaknesses. But know this: The fires in your souls will draw them to you. They will sense your presence, they will feel you close. Whatever you do must be done swiftly. You will have no time to hide and wait—once inside the city, you must strike fast and hard. And if a Vampyre is close, kill it. Remember what I told you: The enchanted blades will cut them down, or fire will consume them. Not so the kings; they must be beheaded.
“I will be with you. But as I said, I have few powers left. Once inside the walls, you will rely only on each other.”
“God will be with us,” said Raul. “I’m sure of that.”
Megan said nothing.
We crouched down in the undergrowth at the edge of the tree line, watching the sentries prowling the battlements.
“Why wait for the dawn?” whispered Wulf. “Surely it would be better to creep down under cover of darkness.”
“Look at them,” answered Mace, pointing at the sentries. “Hooded and cowled against the coming light. They are Vampyres, and they can see in the dark better than you in bright sunlight. No, we wait. They will leave before the dawn, and then men will replace them. Still sleepy-eyed and half dreaming of warm beds. That’s when we move.”