The Moroi Hunters Page 22
The blade slipped away from beneath his jaw, and Lyan disappeared from the alcove, though it was several moments before Voyl regained his composure.
Day 21: Night
As the seven soldiers stood within the grotto and awaited full darkness to blanket the sky, Shayala stood without, basking in her invulnerability and the awe of her subjects. When she strode into the sunlight, with sure steps and her head level, she drew frantic and uncomprehending pleas from the soldiers, who could think only that she meant to suicide. However, once the first ray of light touched her skin and she remained unmarred, those pleas turned to gasps of surprise, then to hushed reverence.
Azark had not returned, and she believed him either dead or fled. Finding another human to serve as intermediary to the feral tribes would not be a concern. Once the supply line was established, her agents would see to the deliveries. However, if he had betrayed her to the Moroi Hunters, her venture to retake her throne, without the army of enhanced, feral humans at her back, would likely fail. She could not help but wonder at the irony that her future, the future of the Court—indeed, the future of the North—currently resided with a single, undistinguished human. Despite her unwillingness to consider any outcome other than victory, she chastised herself for allowing her affairs to come to such a state. Still, in a matter of hours, she would learn the reality of the situation. She looked at the sanguine horizon and thought it an apt portent to the coming raid.
As the last rays of crimson disappeared below the skyline, Shayala set out, her seven soldiers close behind. Ronla had been commanded to remain, watching over the prisoners. At so crucial a time, Shayala could not risk the outcome on a soft-fangs, as such untried strigoi were commonly, derisively called.
As they neared the camp, the soldiers smelled out the pickets and bough-emplaced sentries. Had the guards been more attentive, they would have noticed that the abrupt end of the night song warned of the invaders. Several well-aimed throwing daggers ended the threat of the sentries, their deaths marked by only the muffled thump when they hit the ground. To observe, Shayala ascended the same perch from which she had witnessed the nosferatu attack during that first night.
The strigoi struck quickly and silently. They had been instructed to kill, but not too many and not the burly male who fought with twin khopeshes or the tawny woman with taupe eyes and armed with a kopis. However, if they encountered a tanned male with long blond hair and a goatee, who fought with a scimitar and buckler, they were to ensure his demise. And she had encouraged the slaughter of children as well, for that was sure to elicit outrage and a thirst for vengeance among the humans.
Along the eastern perimeter, the three sentries had no warning of the attack. They fell easily, with only a brief, arrested shout to raise the alarm. The strigoi continued without slowing and scattered through the camp to cause greater confusion. As cries were raised among the defenders, they began to encounter stiffer resistance, though the speed of their attacks shattered the humans’ ability to establish a concerted defense.
The strigoiic soldiers engaged in sporadic, running conflicts as they raced with no purpose other than to cause pandemonium.
Shayala had not warned her soldiers that some of the humans would fight with unexpected capacity. She could never let it be known she provided the humans with ruža vlajnan blood. And to give her an idea of how the humans would fare in the coming battle, she wanted to gauge how quickly her soldiers would adapt to unexpected circumstances.
Shayala observed the raid with satisfaction. If the humans did not now enthusiastically endorse a strike against the Court, then nothing would provoke them to do so.
*
The trio, comprising Cyuth, Ky’rin, and Ruln, ran in a chevron formation, killing some, maiming others, causing chaos and fear. They turned a corner and came upon seven warriors, anchored upon Aya, whom they recognized as one of the protected humans. Her presence caused the strigoi to come to a sudden halt. After a brief, surprised pause, battle was joined.
In a flurry of silver, two flanking humans fell quickly. Aya, fighting under the influence of the strigoiic blood, engaged Ky’rin on the point position. In the time the first two humans were cut down, Ky’rin, unprepared for the speed and skill of Aya’s attack, suffered a gash across her left breast and another to her right cheek from this woman moving with the quickness and grace of a strigoi.
Ruln and Cyuth each fought two opponents; the strigoi scored a number of minor hits, which only slowed and impeded the humans. These also fought beyond what the strigoi expected from such creatures, yet the humans seemed hesitant, as if unsure of their own ability.
Killing this woman would be hard enough, realized Ky’rin, but battling her without the intention of killing her will likely be fatal. And the more injury I endure, the more I will feel compelled to smite her.
Ky’rin was about to call for a withdrawal when Aya penetrated her guard and severed her left arm at the elbow. The forearm, still grasping the sword, fell to the dirt. Ky’rin screamed and blocked Aya’s next strike only by instinct. Although she would not die from exsanguination or shock, the pain was nonetheless excruciating. Desperate, she called for a retreat, and the three strigoi ran, pursued by Aya and three warriors.
*
Thal was exhilarated by the rush of battle. Racing among the aisles, she and Sulyr nearly barreled into Sar-Kyul, standing calmly and solidly as a curtain wall. His whirling khopeshes created a continuous whistle as he advanced upon the two. Thal stepped forward to meet him, certain in her confidence against any human. Two other human warriors set upon Sulyr.
Barely did her blades rise to deflect Sar-Kyul’s initial onslaught when she was driven backward. He fought with a capability beyond any human, and Thal quickly adjusted her expectations and her effort.
Sulyr dispatched one enemy, who was immediately replaced by another. She glanced sidelong at Thal, having difficulty with her single opponent. The ring of metal upon metal resounded, filling the night air with its sharp dissonance.
Thal wanted to believe that Queen Shayala’s command was what prevented her from defeating this human, though she knew it was not so. Eventually, he might tire and she would gain the advantage, though he had yet to show fatigue.
Sar-Kyul feinted left, then swung right, catching Thal’s thigh. She brought her blade in line in time to parry the next blow at her chest. More humans arrived, and Thal knew they would be overrun. She ordered a hasty withdrawal.
Sulyr turned to distract Sar-Kyul long enough to allow Thal to break away. Thal retreated, pursued by several warriors as Sar-Kyul charged his new opponent. He knocked aside one of her blades with his cestus, then punched forward, piercing her face with the two blades extending from the battle glove. Sulyr screamed and dropped her weapons, and Sar-Kyul shred her body, finishing with a slash that split her skull at her jaw. He immediately ran after the fleeing monster.
*
Ry’al and Volna encountered little resistance during their rampage and were pleased when they encountered a party of humans led by the blond-haired, goateed male. However, accustomed to fearful, obsequious humans, the strigoi were thus unprepared when the humans charged them.
Ry’al promptly felled two, one dead and the other likely mortally wounded.
Ryz’k stood against Volna.
Vorn fired his crossbow, and the bolt ricocheted from Ry’al’s gorget, piercing her chin and emerging from her cheek. She howled as the silver tip burned through her flesh. Hurin charged in after the bolt. Dropping his crossbow, Vorn followed to flank her.
Volna had thought to finish Ryz’k quickly, though she soon discovered victory would not come easily. They exchanged fierce, lightning blows, yet neither gained advantage.
Ry’al moved to prevent her two opponents from overtaking her. She ducked a vicious swipe of Hurin’s greatsword, thrust toward Vorn’s chest, only to have the blade swept aside by his shortsword. To Hurin, his heavy sword felt like no more than a small knife, and he was forced to adjust to th
e disparity in heft.
As the battle stretched, a band of archers and arbalesters arrived, though they could not fire without risk of hitting their own. Although she was loath to retreat and leave the human alive, Volna realized they could never defeat their current enemies and the reinforcements. She called for a withdrawal, and they broke away, retreating between the two nearby tents.
Ryz’k, Hurin, and Vorn did not immediately pursue, for the twang and buzz from a volley of silver-tipped arrows and bolts followed the invaders’ flight. The strigoi were struck no less than thrice each; they stumbled from the impact, yet they did not pause in their retreat and were out of sight before another volley could be loosed. Ryz’k and the others gave chase.
*
By now, the entire camp is alerted to our presence and will be mounting a united defense, Thal thought as she ran. She found the notion of her running from a human demeaning and, until this moment, inconceivable. She tried to imagine Halura in flight from a human and, despite the danger of being alone and lost amidst thousands of enemies, nearly laughed at the thought. How can I properly defend the queen if I can be driven off by a single human? Thal would be diminished in the eyes of those under her command and, worse, in the esteem of the queen. Perhaps it would be better to die here than live with such embarrassment.
Emerging from a tent-lined alley, Thal encountered Ry’al and Volna, and all three dashed for the periphery of the camp. Looking over her shoulder, Thal recognized the one human whom Queen Shayala had singled out for assassination. Why the queen concerned herself with this human, Thal could not guess. Perhaps I can redeem myself through his death.
As the trio of strigoi rounded a corner, Thal turned, sword raised, and braced to meet the onrushing target.
Ryz’k’s pace did not slow as he rounded the tent. Thal’s sword flashed toward Ryz’k’s neck. He tried to lower his head and leap to the side. Thal’s blade came away bloodied, and Ryz’k fell, screaming and clutching his face. Thal moved to finish him, but the other humans were upon her, and she fled.
*
Leaving maimed bodies in their wake, Cyuth, Ruln, and Ky’rin—the last with a bunched cloth pressed against the stump of her arm—escaped the camp proper and crossed into the forest to the north. Although Aya wanted to pursue the monsters, to punish them for the unprovoked attack, she knew that, once the immediate threat was put down, the defense of the tribe was the primary concern. Had she not ordered them to stop, her three warriors would have continued. Although they ceased pursuit, they shouted taunts and threats after the creatures.
Aya led them back through the camp, drawing more warriors like a human lodestone, though they encountered no more enemies. They came upon a small crowd focused upon something at its center. Aya pushed through and saw Ryz’k, who howled and writhed and grasped at his face. Distressed, she knelt and cradled him, offering encouragement and praise of his bravery, though Ryz’k would not be soothed.
*
Sar-Kyul reached the eastern edge of the camp as the three monsters passed the forest line. Cursing, he felt the strong inclination to pursue and cut them down. Wrath burned within him, and he wanted nothing more than to kill every single one. He knew battling them in the dark, among the trees and without knowing how many others lay in wait, was an unacceptable risk. The raid itself could have been a ploy to draw them from the camp. Instead, he called for calm and began rallying a defense on the chance the monsters returned; relishing another opportunity to destroy them, he could not say that he hoped they did not.
*
From her eastern perch, Shayala could observe the hasty, disorganized retreat of only three of her soldiers, Thal among them. Once Sar-Kyul began organizing the humans into a defensive formation, she alighted and made for the hillock, ensuring no humans pursued.
*****
“Your Grace,” Yah’l began.
The duke stood staring over the battlements of the eastern tower, much as Shayala had done three weeks earlier, surveying the Court that would be his. In little more than a fortnight, I will never again endure that form of address. To all, I will be “Your Majesty.” He smiled to himself. Still, the exhilaration at his impending enthronement conflicted with his disquiet at Shayala’s continued survival. At Yah’l’s words, he turned to face the spy marshal.
Yah’l continued, “I have heard of grumblings and discontent in the villages.” Despite Munar’s bored expression, Yah’l persisted. “Word has spread of the razing of Hathaer, and many feel you overstepped.”
I overstepped! How dare they question my decision! Munar had the fleeting thought of lashing out against the spy marshal but, regardless of their relative stations, did not want to provoke or test the dangerous strigoi. That thought caused him to again consider Shayala, who would likely not hesitate to strike any subordinate. And the target of her wrath would thank her for it, if he were still able, he thought ruefully. I so despise that upstart chattel!
Once the duke’s attention returned to the present conversation, Yah’l continued, “The scarcity of potable humans is also a cause of great concern and resentment. The people’s fears about both matters will reinforce one another. Were we to provide them with sustenance, their slaked hunger would counter objections to the treatment of Hathaer. As long as they are fed, the masses will believe any explanation they are given.”
Munar recalled a similar statement to Corvyne. He turned his back in annoyance and disgust. “I cannot give what I do not have. Tell them to eat other beasts.”
Yah’l broached another topic. “There is another matter, Your Grace. A patrol captured a solitary human in the forest to the west, beyond the border of the Court.”
“Go on,” Munar urged, his royal blue cape and jet ponytail rippling in the breeze. He knew Yah’l would not mention such an insignificant occurrence if it did not hold import.
“He was ailing and delirious, but the soldiers noticed a poorly applied and false rune upon his shoulder, hinting at some manner of intrigue. For what reason would feral humans ever attempt such a brand? Before he died, he babbled of a woman who was not a woman, with exceptional strength and speed, and who fed upon other humans.”
Munar was intent, though Yah’l hesitated before continuing. “In his ramblings, the feral human alluded this woman was unaffected by sunlight.”
“Bah!” Munar exclaimed, ready to dismiss the entire affair.
“Your Grace, I believe he was confused in his delirium. However, his statements, flawed as they are, are too pertinent to dismiss.” While Munar mused, Yah’l added, “The only other information he provided was that he was tasked with making a delivery to a tribe of feral humans. Weapons.”
Finally, Munar said, “I agree. Strange as this tale is, too much of it rings true to ignore.”
“The feral human was unable to provide a map or any sort of directions other than to say he was kept in a cave upon a hill. He was found in the western forest; upon the next nightfall, I’ll instruct the patrols to concentrate upon that region.”
Munar only nodded his consent. He struggled to maintain a dignified façade while, inwardly, he bubbled with excitement. Have we at last located the fugitive queen?
Day 21: Light
Once she returned to the grotto, Shayala scouted to ensure they had not been pursued. She remained at the refuge only long enough to feed and debrief the survivors on the details of the battle before leaving to return to the human encampment. Her parting words were a warning: the strigoi prisoner was to receive sufficient nourishment to prevent his degeneration into nosferatu. By the time she left, the cavern began to cloy with the heavy musk from the orgy of feeding. The strigoi would heal readily from their superficial injuries; yet Ky’rin, although her stump had mended enough to stanch the bleeding, would require a month to regrow her lost arm.
Her soldiers were understandably curious and troubled as to the unexpected prowess displayed by some of the feral humans. But Shayala would tell them nothing, maintaining ignorance as to the source of t
heir capacity and claiming the reason for the raid was to test the humans’ ability.
The loss of one soldier and the wounds suffered by the others spoke both favorably and unfavorably. In the first: that the fortified feral humans were able to repel her soldiers, if but seven, supported her decision to use the humans in the coming war and foreshadowed victory. Still, that one of her guard would allow herself to be killed, another maimed, and the others forced into an undisciplined retreat was indefensible. At least Ryz’k had been severely damaged, though she was displeased to learn he yet lived.
When Shayala arrived at the camp, the Moroi Hunters were still in an uproar: treating casualties, preparing the slain for cremation, repairing damage to property, consoling relations of the departed, organizing defenses. Unlike during the nosferatu attack, the strigoi had not bitten anyone; thus the mortally wounded needed not choose between exile and a euthanasic death. The cheerless sentries offered no challenge as she entered the camp, and the surviving humans were so distracted or disconsolate that they paid her no heed as she roamed throughout. She reached Sar-Kyul’s pavilion, though he was not within, so she continued her search as well as her observations of the death and destruction wrought. Beyond the general morose of the camp, fear and anger was evident. Shayala smiled.
She witnessed a mother sobbing uncontrollably while holding the body of her daughter in shaking arms. A tent had been converted into an impromptu infirmary; most within would likely never recover. She passed howling, imploring wounded who had yet to be treated. She saw scattered appendages and organs, and moved quickly away from the scent of blood. She encountered humans so overcome by shock that they seemed oblivious to their surroundings. The redolence of mingled offal and blood, fear and despair, was as an olfactory feast to her.