The vampire spawn hissed as they parted before Montauk. The floor cleared quickly, allowing the human passage through the crowded room. Approaching the dais, he climbed up the steps and knelt before his mistress.
She offered him her hand, and he kissed the back of it. Though it appeared to be the soft, supple skin of a beautiful young woman, against his lips it felt like cold, lifeless flesh.
"What news, Montauk?" asked Shyressa, pulling back her hand.
"Everything goes as planned," said the human, getting up from his knees. "Lord Purdun has backed himself into a corner, and the king's enforcers are in Duhlnarim as we speak."
Montauk rubbed his hands together, excited at the proposition of his plans all falling into place. "The King's Magistrates will put Purdun in chains and take control of Zerith Hold. They'll see for themselves how your vampires attack the peasants, and the king will have no choice but to side with the Crimson Awl. Wanting to avoid the same fate as Elestam, which he himself helped to topple, Korox will lock Purdun away for good and institute me as the Baron of Ahlarkham."
"The pieces are in motion. Soon the entire country of Erlkazar will be ours to command," purred the vampire. "You've done well."
Montauk swelled inside. "Thank you, mistress."
Shyressa opened her arms. "Come to me, Montauk. Let me embrace you."
Montauk paused. "Embrace me?" A chill wind blew through the chamber, and Montauk pulled his cloak tighter.
The vampire smiled. "Is it not the custom of humans to embrace when they are pleased?"
"Well…" said Montauk hesitantly. This didn't feel right. "Yes. It is."
"Then come to me. Let me embrace you. For I am pleased." Shyressa spread her arms wider.
Montauk took a step back, but he slammed into something that stopped him from moving. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the worshipful vampire spawn closing down on the dais. They hissed at him, blocking his path to the archway.
A cold sweat beaded on his forehead. "What's… What's this all about?"
Without moving her feet, Shyressa, her arms still out wide, slipped across the dais toward Montauk. "Will you not indulge your mistress?"
Montauk felt ill. His knees went weak under him and Shyressa's shadow loomed over his head. "But… but who will replace Lord Purdun?"
Shyressa wrapped her arms around Montauk. The glamour that covered her faded, revealing her long sharp fangs and the pressed, withered skin of her advanced age. She opened her mouth wide and bit down on the shivering human's neck.
Montauk sobbed. "But… I don't understand."
Shyressa took a long slurp of Montauk's fresh, live blood. Then she released him. Taking a step back, a shimmering glow encased her entire body. The air around her frame began to waver and shake, and the vampire Rune Mistress transformed into the perfect replica of a human male.
Montauk, holding the wound in his throat, looked up in horror at an exact copy of his own face.
Shyressa cleared her throat. "I won't be having any further need for you, Montauk," she said, her voice the same pitch and tenor as Montauk's own. "I shall be assuming the duties of the barony myself."
The vampire placed her foot on the real, kneeling Montauk and kicked him backward off the dais into the waiting hands of her vampires.
"Please, mistress, no," shouted Montauk as the spawn tore at his flesh. "I've served you well."
"Yes, Montauk," agreed the glamoured vampire. "Until the very end."
Chapter 21
"I ask you this one last time, Magistrate," said Lord Purdun, his hands beginning to glow with a blue-white light, "return to Llorbauth with my request for the king's aid in defeating the vampires."
Magistrate Olivio pulled a glass flask from a small pouch on his hip. It had a yellowish liquid in it. "Your request has been denied." He hurled the flask at the floor near the baron's feet.
In a flash, one of the half-giants reached out and snatched it from the air with its meaty palm. The vial never hit the floor, but it shattered against the guardian's skin, sending up a vaporous gas.
Another of the half-giants grabbed Purdun around the waist and pulled him back two large steps. The remaining two followed, stepping in front of the baron, forming a wall of flesh between the Magistrates and Lord Purdun.
The yellow gas wafted into the air, surrounding the guardian who had intercepted it. The half-giant let out a choking cough, then slumped to the floor.
In the next instant, all nine hells broke loose inside Zerith Hold.
The King's Magistrates rushed forward as a line.
Liam felt his stomach knot, then the rest of the world dropped away. He could hear his blood pump though his ears as he charged the closest Magistrate. He shouted like he had never shouted before as he brought his blade down. The enchanted metal cleaved through the soldier's gauntlet and his flesh and bone beneath, taking off the Magistrate's hand at the wrist. The severed appendage fell to the ground still gripping the hilt of his long sword.
The man wailed as blood pumped from his ruined arm, and he clamped down on the wound with his other hand, trying to stop the flow. Liam slapped the helmet off the man's head and brought the hilt of his sword down on his skull with a heavy thud. The Magistrate slumped to the floor beside the half-giant. His blood pooled beside them.
"Take the human first," shouted Olivio, and the other five Magistrates changed direction, surrounding Liam in a ring.
They closed in, cutting down Liam's ability to move or dodge their attacks. Then they struck. Their blades flashed in at him, all moving in unison.
Liam caught the first one, parrying it harmlessly to one side. His armor deflected another. But he didn't have enough room or speed to get to the other three, and each of them struck home. He was speared through the ribs and hip on his left side. The third blade slashed a deep cut along his right forearm.
The pain momentarily froze Liam in place. It seemed his whole body exploded with sensory overload. At first he couldn't tell where each of the wounds was. The searing pain jumped out, taking hold of every inch of him. It was a thumping wave that spread out farther and farther until finally it dragged him under.
He stood there unable to move for what seemed an unbearably long time. Then the pain receded, and the world came back. The fight before him took shape, and Liam regained control of his body. He held his left arm close to his ribs. Anything other than having it pressed tightly against his side brought complete agony. He glared at the Magistrates as they readied themselves for another attack. They were like separate parts of the same machine. They moved together, struck together, and for all Liam knew, they thought together.
Liam had on several occasions taken more than one soldier at a time-but not soldiers like these. One Magistrate was easily worth three elite guardsmen. And as Liam sized up the group around him, he started to feel the futility of his situation.
He might die here.
In that moment, Liam could see Samira's face. He finally had her, and he might lose her again. Anger rose inside Liam. These men were here to take away from him the one thing he had longed for, the one thing he had been unable to have until now. They ceased to be authority figures. They were no longer the king's messengers. They were here to destroy all that Liam held dear, and he wasn't going to allow that.
The pain in his ribs and hip was flushed out by a burning hatred for the Magistrates, and Liam saw red. He struck back, raising his sword to eye level and spinning in a quick circle. His blade struck each of the soldiers in turn. Two of them managed to defend themselves against the sudden, whirlwind attack, bring their blades up fast enough to make Liam's glance away. But despite their good steel and quick reactions, they couldn't deter his furious swing.