Priestess of War (The Bowl of Souls Book 10), page 35
His smaller packmates were stationed at various points of interest around the passes below, ready to alert her if anything unexpected should occur. Two of his fellow luperos were on the ground not far from the battle, positioned so that she could keep watch and return if the situation needed her personal presence once again. That was unlikely, though.
“Raj, low!” she commanded and the long-limbed lupero crouched so that she could swing her leg over his back.
Luperos weren’t often kept as riding animals. Their narrow bodies weren’t well suited for saddles. An alfa lupero like Raj, however, was strong and fast and able to climb into areas that regular mounts could not reach.
“Hut!” She laid across his back, wrapping her arms and legs around his torso as he sped off. This method of riding often seemed awkward to those who had never attempted it before, but to someone with a practiced grip it was an easy and comfortable ride.
He took her down a narrow canyon ledge. She frowned momentarily as the heat and stench of the lake enveloped her. This was part of her assignment and she knew that she would need to get used to it.
David had not given her any indication as to how long she would be stationed in this place. The only thing she knew for sure was that once the world heard about the Academy’s defeat in these mountains today, they would come for her again. She would be well-prepared when that day came.
They were half way down the canyon wall when the first unexpected attack happened. It was a silent assault. Something unseen.
Half of her blood magic-infused bonds with the wraith were cut free. Cassandra cried out in mental agony as the backlash of magic slammed into her soul with tremendous force. She lost her grip on Raj and slipped.
Cassandra fell, her body rebounding off the narrow ledge and tumbling towards the lake below. In a way it was a similar event to the blow that had felled her two hundred years before. Only this time, she was better prepared. Taking swift control of the situation, she reached out with her earth magic, building a barrier around her.
Before she hit the lake’s surface, she was already pursuing her attacker.
Cassandra’s mind dove into her remaining connection with the wraith. It’s amorphous black form was already raging, sensing that its shackles had been weakened. She ignored it for the moment and looked for a possible figure retreating in the darkness. It had to be someone of great power. Few could have avoided the traps she had left here.
She saw it. A white form. To her eye, it was as an eagle soaring among the countless black strands that connected the wraith’s power to the world. Only this eagle was on fire. Every strand it touched gave way immediately.
Somewhere in the physical world, flies were falling dead by the hundreds, larvae simply bursting, their tiny minds crushed by the same backlash of power that had caused Cassandra such pain. Minor losses, all considered. But the fact that it had been able to cut her connections was not to be discounted. This was a powerful enemy and experienced.
She would crush it quickly. The form she took in the void was that of a lupero, red and fearsome. Cassandra pursued the eagle, strands of mental power issuing from her body like red hairs ready to entangle her prey.
The eagle saw her approach instantly. It’s moves were agile, it dodged the majority of her strands and those few that did get through, it burned away. Nevertheless, her pursuit was dogged.
Cassandra looked for the strand of light that connected the eagle to its host body. If she cut that strand, the battle was over. But she could not find it. Her clever enemy had found a way to disguise his strand.
It didn’t matter. As agile as the eagle was, she was faster. As determined as he was, she was more powerful. She followed him to the outer edge of the wraith’s dark world, to the farthest reaches of its pinpricks of light. Then inexplicably, he vanished.
Cassandra raged. How was that possible? There was no escape. Not unless he had entered back to his body, but she would have seen it. Had the eagle somehow disguised the window back to his mind the same way he had disguised the line of life that led to it?
She soared back down to the wraith’s black mass. It was straining at the remaining red strands binding its will. Left alone much longer, it might have been able to break free. As it was, re-binding it was a struggle. Each strand of power she lashed around it drained her considerably.
It was a good thing she was close. If the eagle had struck while Cassandra was still on the cliffs above, she might not have been able to regain control, but that was no longer a worry. Not with her body already having fallen within the lake’s depths.
Once she had finished, she set a new series of traps. Their strength hampered the wraith’s distance of control somewhat, but it was a necessary precaution until this attacker was caught. Finished, but wearied, she returned to her body.
She was enveloped in the lake’s living sludge. Her body was protected by a shell of earth, but her mobility was greatly limited. Normally, when entering the lake, she anchored herself to the ground with an armor of rock. Her unexpected fall had left her somewhat buoyant.
Cassandra was suspended ten feet under the surface, no way to push forward physically. She had no choice but to use her elemental magic and in a very inefficient manner. She sent a powerful burst of air magic out behind her, propelling herself forward. It was slow going, the thick sludge did not like to be moved and she was constantly buffeted by the large bodies of the creatures around her.
By the time she reached the shore, both her spirit and elemental magic had been drained considerably. She shed the sludge surrounding her and Raj ran up to her. She stepped up the pathway between the dead and approached the stone door to her home.
Before walking inside, she reached out to her luperos stationed near the battle. The fight was still raging. It seemed that the early advantage she had given her forces had been overcome and at the moment neither side was gaining ground. Things were likely still well in hand, but the Academy forces were better trained than she had expected. Once she had recharged herself, she would make another appearance and end things.
She rolled aside the stone door and ordered Raj to stay outside. “Vastyr!”
When the elf did not respond immediately, her hands clenched. He had better not have drunken himself into slumber. She needed his blood now and it was best if he was conscious to tell her when to stop.
She rolled the door shut behind herself. “Vastyr! Now. I need you.”
“I don’t think he’s gonna be much help at this point,” called Lyramoor.
Cassandra stormed into the room, half expecting to find that the scarred elf had escaped. Instead, she saw that he was still restrained to the wall. Vastyr, though, was collapsed on the floor not far from him. She could smell the slave’s blood.
“Vastyr!” she said and rushed to his side. He was lying on a broken glass. He was dead. Her eyes swung up to Lyramoor.
“He wasn’t being nice to me,” the captive said. “So I killed him.”
Her eyes widened, fury building within her. “How could you have?”
Lyramoor spat. “I have lots of experience, you disgusting, ugly, arrogant, vampire!”
A roar of primal rage built in her chest, but she held back, resisting the urge to rush up and crush him. Her anger had little to do with his petty threats or because of any great feelings she had for Vastyr. But this was the most inconvenient time to lose her source of blood. Growling, she swiped out her hand and the golem spread out, covering his entire body except his eyes, nose, and mouth.
He let out a laugh. “You think this will stop me from killing you too?”
“I will deal with you later!” she said.
Now was a crucial time. She would have to drink what she could from Vastyr’s corpse. With the proper spells, she could keep what was in him from degrading, but she could not make his dead body produce more.
The captive would have to suffice as a source until she could get a replacement, but drinking from him now would be too great a strain on his tortured body. To make matters more difficult, she couldn’t heal him correctly because of those blasted devices that kept her from being able to see inside him.
She turned her attention back on Vastyr. The smell of the small amount of blood from the cuts on his face was already causing her to tremble. She lifted his arm, sent magic into his body to force his heart to pump.
Then she paused. How had the elf killed him? She inspected his body closer with her magic. His blood vessels were damaged. His brain had hemorrhaged. She dropped his arm. “Poison?”
Lyramoor swore.
“You crafty, bastard,” she said, looking up at the ex-slave with new respect. “You very nearly tricked me into killing myself.”
“He’s still fresh,” the elf said. “It’s not too late.”
Cassandra approached him, licking her lips. “You have just volunteered to be my new slave.”
Fear entered his eyes, but he quickly pushed it aside. “You don’t want me, witch! I’m sick. I have broken bones. My blood’s dirty.”
“That just adds to the flavor,” she said. Cassandra gestured and the clay parted, exposing his neck. She could see his artery pulsing as his heart raced. Yes. This was fear. “All those years a slave and now you return to the fold.”
“Just kill me. I killed your lover. Kill me!” Lyramoor demanded.
She didn’t bother to dispute his assertion. “Oh, I’m not killing you. Pet.”
“No! Never again. Never again!” he yelled.
Cassandra had the golem cover his mouth, tiring of his voice. She couldn’t take it directly from his neck. Any healing she did would be crude and that was too crucial an area. She moved more clay aside, exposing the inside joint of his arm. This would do.
A quick slice of air opened him up nicely. She fastened her lips around the wound.
Pleasure overcame her. His blood was just as sweet as Vastyr’s, possibly sweeter. And what was that other odd flavor? There was something else. Something hot?
She backed away, spitting out the current mouthful. It burned. Her lips, her tongue, her throat . . .
Cassandra tore the clay from his face. “What is this?”
He began to laugh. “I got you. I got you good!”
The burning intensified. It had entered her belly. Her eyes were tearing, her nose watering. “How?”
“Panthel root,” he said weakly and she realized that he was still bleeding.
“Panthel? Impossible. Panthel root is lethal poison to elves.”
“In tiny enough doses, it just hurts.” He chuckled. “Twenty long years of small doses. Twenty years of feelin’ like my own blood is on fire, but I got used to it. Ends up its worth it.”
“But I’m not an elf,” she said. Her stomach felt as if it were boiling. How much had she drank? “It doesn’t hurt humans.”
His eyelids began to droop. “A vampire’s body changes. See, I learned this long ago. Dwarfs traffic in lots of things. They learned somethin’ about Panthel root. In a vampire, it just stops their body from absorbing elf magic. Permanently.”
“No,” she said.
“That’s right. You’re no longer a vampire.” He managed a smile. “Ends up I’m the cure.”
Chapter Twenty Three
“Road-cloggin’, field-burnin’, boot-dippin’, flamin’ horse apples!” Lenui shouted.
The dwarf was hanging from Rufus’ neck as they dangled hundreds of feet above the ground. The cliff face was sheer and their descent was slow. To make things worse, the durn rogue horse was laughing!
“Ooh! Ooh! You! Fun-ny! Wee!” Rufus huffed, his body shaking as he looked for the next hand hold.
“I’m not friggin’ funny, dag-blast it! I just don’t wanna die fallin’ off this cliff holdin’ a bag of hot rocks!”
Rufus bellowed out another laugh. “Ooh! Hot rock!”
“Eat a dog log, you snot-flicker!” Lenui shouted. “That was literal!”
Tied to Lenui’s belt, dangling down behind the dwarf, was the sack that Locksher had given him. The wizard’s plan had been a blasted good one if only they survived the trip.
To take his mind off of the descent, Lenny tried a different tactic than cursing. “You wanna know how I know ’bout this place, Rufus?”
“Okay,” the rogue horse replied, just before reaching one long arm out and swinging over to a small ledge.
“Balls! Biscuits and gravy!” Lenui lamented. He took several deep breaths. “Okay, so me’n the boys was just a bunch of young loudmouths who didn’t know what danger meant. We heard about this fight in the mountains and me with this new fancy armor I made, I wanted to test it out. So I talked the boys into comin’ with me.”
“Ooh. Boys?” Rufus asked. His next handhold was just out of reach so he caused his arm to lengthen, stretching a good six inches longer than usual. He grasped the bulge in the rock and they were swinging again.
Lenui clenched his eyes closed and gritted his teeth. “Young dwarfs. We was all under eighty, just grown into our britches. Couple of us had families already. But we was fierce. Eager to fight. ’Specially ’gainst this high-falootin’ Dark Prophet worshipper.
“We came up and joined up with the Dremald Garrison troops. We marched’n drank’n ate good trail food. It was a grand ol’ time. But when we got close to the mountains things changed. It was dark. That priestess had her old magic sendin’ chills across the whole blasted army.”
The more Lenui got into finally telling the story, the less the climb affected him. The events of those days, long banished from his thoughts were coming back to life for him.
“Us, though? We was dwarfs. Magic don’t hit us as hard. We just laughed a little louder and that seemed to help. Soon enough the cliffs was in front of us. Most’ve the army was already fightin’ we could hear it. You know why they called it Thunder Gap?”
“Ooh! No.” Rufus said, stretching his arm out again.
Lenui managed to ignore the swinging this time. “There was this big pass surrounded by goblinoid caves that was a straight shoot all the way up to the main road to the Dark Prophet’s palace. That Priestess of War had herself set up right in the middle of it. Walls set up. Buildin’s outta the rock. Her army’d come in from Khalpany to keep the good folk from getting’ through to kick the Dark Prophet’s arse.
“They called it Thunder Gap ’cause she kept a stream of lightnin’ bolts hammerin’ the army day’n night. It was hell up there. Only way to survive was to have a wizard with you. Well we thought this’d be a fight to remember, but the line to get in was too friggin’ long!
“Then we saw these two wizards and a handful of fighters headin’ up a trail up the Cliffside and decided to follow ’em. Now I never did learn the names of them wizards. Didn’t care much at the time. Guess one of ’em could’ve been Porthos fer all I know.”
“Ooh! Down more?” Rufus asked.
Grimacing, Lenui hazarded a look down. He could just barely see the trail and the cave entrance another twenty feet down. “Little to the right and then down a bit more.”
Rufus swung over and hung above the entrance and then lengthened his arms, lowering them down. Soon his rear legs touched down. Lenui dropped to the path.
“If you’cn do that why didn’t you just stretch yer durn arms down the whole friggin’ way?” he grumped.
Rufus’ eyes went wide and he grabbed at his shoulders. “Ooh! Ow! Hurt!”
Lenui shrugged. “Hell if I ever understand the way you things work.”
The cave entrance was still a good hundred feet from the bottom of the cliff face. The narrow trail that led up to it was worn and had crumbled away in places. From where they were, they could just hear the fighting around the corner of the cliff and up a short rise.
“This trail weren’t lookin’ this bad back then,” Lenui observed. He opened the bag Locksher had given him and pulled out a glow orb. He peered into the cave and slapped the orb to turn it on. “Now this thing stretches in a ways.”
They walked inside and Lenui grabbed Buster, holding the hammer in his right hand. The made their way into the cave and continued down a passageway at the back. It was a winding corridor that widened and shrank, causing the rogue horse to have to widen and shrink with it.
“Stinks!” Rufus observed, holding his huge nostrils shut.
“What’re you talkin’ ’bout?” Lenui said continuing deeper. Then he rounded a corner and coughed. “Ugh! Yer right! Smells like somebody cut the feet off a hunnerd kobalds and threw ’em in here!”
“Ooh! Feet and poop!” Rufus agreed.
“Guess that makes sense,” Lenui said, continuing to edge forward. “This cave wanders ’round all the way up to the gap. That’s how we snuck in past all her defenses. Well, thinkin’ back now, it could’ve been Porthos’ doin’ ’cause she had a purty close watch on every way in.
“When we came out there was a big fight goin’ on between that priestess and some other wizards. It was all fancy and loud and we was all excited. My boys and I, we ran right past the wizards we’d followed in and we headed up the trail, twenty dwarfs with our weapons in our hands and nothin’ between our ears.”
His voice lowered, the memory feeling a bit too real now that they were coming so close to the spot where it all happened.
“We fought our way past goblinoids and big dog things. Our weapons were magic and our bodies were young and we felt invincible. Then we reached the top of the cliff where the blasted lady stood and she noticed us.”
His voice shook. “Boys never stood a chance. We was hit by five lightnin’ bolts at once. Even dwarfs can fry. The boys fell smokin’ in their boots. I fell too, but the armor saved me. I had that crab suit worked up with so many runes it would’ve taken ten more hits just like that.”
Rufus put his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Wee . . .”
“Yeah, I know. Hell, the rest is old news now. That priestess turned around to take one more wizard. I stood and ran at her, Buster rarin’. I yelled somethin’ I thought was smart at the time. Don’t recall what it was anymore. She turned to look just as I swung. Buster hit her just under the eye.
