Sixth of Nirakos
Year 1182 of Emancipation
At the centre of Narandir was a massive clearing that Mishtar, the former Lord of Narandir, had used to build his city. When he had come to the Forest all those centuries ago, he had harnessed its power to build towers for his new people to live in. The elves had been forced out of their homes and moved into this new city, the better to be watched over by their new master. After Belkai had taken Mishtar’s place, she had given the elves her blessing to return to their traditional homes. The towers had been torn down, the clearing abandoned. Belkai hadn’t been to the clearing since leaving for Larton. Too much blood had been spilled there: Svaletan soldiers, elves following Mishtar’s commands, and ultimately Mishtar himself. It was here that she had faced Ashelath and killed the Arcane who had enslaved her for far too many years.
Ten days after the Battle of Larton, Belkai led Davos to the clearing. It was far more chaotic than when she’d last seen it. After Belkai’s fight with Ashelath, one of the towers had been left ruined. The elves had torn down the rest for raw materials, leaving shattered pieces scattered across the clearing – seemingly their revenge for their own loss when Mishtar had taken their homes. A patch of darkened grass lay on the northern end, and Belkai slowly walked over to it, kneeling before the single rose that grew in the centre.
“I come here every few days,” Davos said, kneeling next to her. “It hasn’t grown since that first time it appeared.”
Belkai nodded. “I said that this ground would be cursed. I guess this is Narandir’s way of rebelling against it.”
She ran a hand over the soft petals and smiled. “A promise of light after darkness.”
Davos put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. “You’re free, Belkai. Remember that.”
She kissed his hand then stood, straightening out her low-cut green dress. “Walk with me?”
She led him west, towards a flowerbed. There was a patch of disturbed earth nearby, with a sword planted in the ground at its head. Davos knew the spot well; he had dug Mishtar’s grave himself, a statement of respect to someone who hardly deserved it in his mind. But he knew that Belkai saw things differently, and had acted accordingly.
“Where were the others buried? The Svaletans and elves?” Belkai asked.
“Further into the woods,” Davos replied. “Those graves would be unmarked, so far as I was told.”
He frowned. “You never asked before.”
“I haven’t dared to return until now,” Belkai admitted. “Their blood is on my hands.”
Davos gently turned her around and took her in his arms. She rested her cheek on his shoulder as he said, “That was a lifetime ago, my love. And the blame is on the demon you killed, not on you.”
“I see his face every night when I sleep,” Belkai whispered. “And the others that I killed. I can’t escape that guilt.”
“You never told me,” Davos said, pressing her tighter against him.
“I was ashamed.” Her voice seemed to break a little. “But then I spoke to Arak. He called it ‘survivor’s guilt’. He said it was normal for humans. But I still didn’t want to tell you.”
Davos stepped back and raised her head. He kissed her on the forehead. “No secrets, Belkai. And there is nothing to be ashamed of. I have caught seven killers in my life. Do you want to know what they all had in common?”
“What is that?” Belkai took the bait without hesitation. Davos smiled.
“None of them lost a moment of sleep. They enjoyed the hunt, they savoured the kill. And I promise you that they did not dream of them except to relive the experience to enjoy it again.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I married a beautiful woman who values life and has earned her freedom in the hardest way possible.” Davos softly cradled her head in his hands. “And she has a chance at peace now.”
She didn’t speak, just ran her hands through his hair and pulled him to her. Their lips met, and for a moment all that existed was their bodies pressing together as they drank deep of their passion. Davos’ hands ran down Belkai’s side, and she shuddered as he gently began to explore.
A subtle cough caught their attention, and Davos whispered a curse as they broke away from each other.
“You didn’t sense him?” he whispered, and Belkai giggled as they turned to face Lithmae, freshly emerged from the tree line.
“My apologies, I did not intend to interrupt.” Nonetheless, Belkai saw a gleam in his eye. So the chieftain has some humour after all. She waved her hand dismissively and he continued. “Something has happened. You need to come quickly.”
***
“She arrived at the edge of Narandir during the night,” Lithmae said, leading the two of them through a new settlement that was still under construction. “I was only just made aware of it and thought that any…outsiders…should be reported to you.”
“It was a good decision,” Belkai told him. She could sense his unease, quite unusual for the normally placid chieftain. “What has she been saying?”
“Only two words,” Lithmae replied, and lowered his voice. “Narandir. Vatriloi.”
Belkai’s blood ran cold, and she glanced at Davos, who seemed more confused than anything. “Vampires, Davos.”
“I know,” he said, forcing a smile. “I thought they were a myth. But, then, so were Blackwings until a few weeks ago.”
“Is she in shock?” Belkai asked.
“She could be,” Lithmae said. “She could also be terrified. She’s exhausted; it looks like she’s been walking for a while.”
They went up a ramp and Lithmae led them into a dull red-coloured building. A young woman with brown hair was sitting on a bed, hugging her knees and staring blankly at the wall. Her eyes were bloodshot and Belkai could sense her fear. She turned to Davos and Lithmae and said,
“Recheck our perimeter. Make sure nothing followed her. And report anything that seems out of the ordinary. Anything; I don’t care if it’s as minor as a broken branch.”
The two men left without responding, and Belkai dismissed the healers who were standing nearby. Left alone, Belkai sat next to the woman and stayed silent for a moment. She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, taking stock of the woman before her. She could sense her fear, but also pain. She’d lost someone, Belkai understood. Someone close to her.
It was said that some of the Brilhardem could read minds, but Belkai was many years away from reaching that level, if it even existed. Still, she could perceive emotions well enough to predict responses without having to rely on any external evidence. Even with that ability, she knew that she had to approach this carefully.
She didn’t touch the woman, but quietly said, “We’re alone now. My name is Belkai. I am the lord here in Narandir.”
The terror that ran through the woman’s body made Belkai physically jerk, and her eyes flew open to see the woman staring at her wide eyed.
“What is your name?” Belkai asked softly, forcing aside the shared sensation of terror. The response was broken, hesitant.
“Shontelle.”
“It is good to meet you, Shontelle.” Belkai placed a hand on her knee. She jerked a little, but then visibly relaxed. Belkai continued, her voice gentle and soothing. “Where are you from?”
“Solstia,” Shontelle answered, her voice shaking.
“Where is that?”
“It is – was – a few days’ walk east.”
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Belkai sensed the agony before it even had the chance to register on Shontelle’s face. “Was?”
The woman burst into tears. “They’re gone. They’re all gone.”
Belkai took Shontelle in her arms and hugged her close. “Let it out, Shontelle. Let it come out.”
She waited until the tears had slowed, then handed her a cloth. When she’d wiped her face, Belkai said, “Go slow, take your time. But tell me what happened.”
“It was a normal day, but a woman was at the market. She was strange.”
“Strange in what way?”
“Her accent was...unusual. She said she was from Wexburg, but her voice was all wrong.”
“What did she look like?”
Shontelle’s eyes were distant as she answered. “As young as me. Blonde. She wore a silver dress. Everyone watched her.”
Belkai nodded. “What happened next?”
Shontelle went rigid, her eyes wide with fright. “The trumpet...vatriloi...Kiran, he’s gone. And my father...the woman!”
“What about the woman?”
“She was with them.”
“She was a vatrilos?”
“No! She seemed to lead them – Yulen! She killed Yulen. How do you kill a god?”
She was losing control, Belkai realised. She put her hands on Shontelle’s cheeks and brought their faces close. Her mind reached out, trying to calm her, to eradicate the panic. After a few moments her breathing settled.
“Tell me about the woman.”
“She – she said that Yulen was dead, that she killed her. And that she had a message for the Lord of Narandir.”
Belkai let go of her and sat back. With a firm voice she said, “I am Belkai, Lord of Narandir. What was her message?”
***
Davos and Lithmae returned after a few hours to find the woman sleeping. Belkai was standing nearby watching as the healers fussed over her, making sure there were no wounds that they’d missed.
“Did she tell you anything?” Davos asked quietly as he stood beside Belkai.
“Her name is Shontelle. She says that she comes from a town named Solstia.”
“I know it,” Lithmae announced. “Two days’ ride from here. It’s small, but an important market town for people travelling through these parts.”
Belkai didn’t respond at first. Though she didn’t move, she was embracing Shontelle’s dreams. She could feel her fear, the panic that consumed her even in her sleep. Davos’ voice broke through and Belkai snapped her head around.
“What?”
He wasn’t bothered. By now he could see the signs when she was studying something beyond his senses. So his reply was gentle. “What else did she say?”
Belkai blinked as she came fully back into herself. She didn’t answer Davos, but turned to Lithmae. “I need you to send two elves on a chase for me. Pick your fastest riders.”
“For what purpose?”
“They need to find Ertas and Rangir, the Svaletan soldiers who fought with us. Warn them that they are in danger. Someone wants them dead. Lithmae, this is urgent.”
“As you wish.” He called over a nearby scout and spoke quietly to him as Belkai turned to Davos.
“I need you to take a group to Solstia. Take note of everything you see, you smell, everything.” She thought for a second. “Did you find anything on the perimeter?”
“She wasn’t followed,” Davos answered. “She was completely alone.”
Belkai nodded absently. “Go, and be as fast as you can.”
Davos knew better than to argue, but as he began to move Belkai grabbed his arm. “Be careful, Davos. You could be walking into a trap.”
“What did she say, Belkai? What is going on?”
When she spoke, it was barely louder than a whisper. “She says the town was wiped out by vampires. There was a woman leading them. She sent Shontelle to warn me that the Svaletan soldiers who helped me were facing death.”
“That was all?”
Belkai nodded, and hoped he hadn’t learned how to sense her lies. But how could she tell him an Arcane was dead? Another Arcane, she reminded herself. If this mysterious woman wasn’t lying.
“Okay. I’ll get it done.”
He kissed her forehead, then led Lithmae outside to pick a group to go with him. Loranna stepped inside, alerted by the two men’s blatant worry.
“Belkai? What is going on?”
Belkai looked at her with softening eyes. “It seems someone wants to stop my lordship.”
And that was the key. Was it one of Mishtar’s children? Had her mercy come back to haunt her? She could have wiped out all memory of the Recluse, but she had decided that enough blood was shed. Now she began to wonder. Perhaps someone dreamed of revenge. They had seen Belkai’s comrades, so now would they wanted to pick them off? If so, Davos would identify them. What would happen next, Belkai didn’t know. She had no desire to kill them, but they might leave her with no choice. In that case, their blood is on their own heads.
***
Davos took a detachment of seven elves, hand chosen by Lithmae for both their stamina and fighting prowess. Everyone knew the stories about vampires, the myths about their immortality. Davos figured that at least half the stories were completely false, but that left the other half true, and there was no way of knowing which was which until there was a bloodsucking nightmare chasing you down. Such were the pleasant thoughts that plagued Davos as the group rode as fast as their horses would take them. These were not average Svaletan rides, but a stock bred and raised by Narandir’s elves for the past two thousand years. They were faster, stronger, and could endure far more than the average beast. They rode through the night without stopping, making camp halfway to Solstia when the sun was high in the sky. Whether this Shontelle was telling the truth or not, the idea of vampires wandering the land made the entire group nervous. They said that you could only kill a vampire with a weapon forged from the heart of the earth, Davos thought. Would Dwarven blades be enough? Or was that one of the myths that had grown up around the truth?
He had no answers when they arrived at Solstia on the morning of the eighth of Nirakos. They were on the other side of a nearby hill when they left the horses behind to approach on foot. There was no sound of everyday living, and they had seen no one as they approached the town. There wasn’t even the sound of birds or insects.
“Go in pairs,” Davos ordered quietly. “Something isn’t right here.”
As the elves broke off to investigate, Davos headed up the hill. There were tracks leading up, barely visible in the grass. He followed them up and took note of the deeper imprints at the top.
“Someone was watching the town,” Davos said.
“Two people,” his partner replied, gesturing. “Same size feet.”
“Davos!”
He looked up at the call. One of the elves was waving at him, and he made his way down the hill towards the edge of town. There was a rotting corpse at the elf’s feet, but there wasn’t so much as a fly in the air around it.
“Where’s the blood?” Davos asked as he knelt beside the pale body. He pushed the head to the side, and it rolled far too easily. The bones were crushed, and two ragged holes were torn through the side.
“I think you know the answer to that,” the elf whispered. “There are no flies, no birds have gotten to the body. This isn’t natural.”
Davos nodded wordlessly. This was something that the myths hadn’t addressed. The thought wasn’t comforting.
“There’s no sign of anything being here in the past six days at least,” the elf added. “Whoever did this is long gone.”
“Maybe.” Davos stood and looked around, his keen vision taking in far more than an average human would. Nonetheless, he knew that the pureblood elves would be seeing more than him. “What about the rest of the town?”
They spent the day wandering the town, taking note of each corpse that they found. There was little blood, save for the occasional corpse with a missing limb. All had the blood drained from them. The fields nearby held the biggest shock – what seemed like the town’s militia, all armed, and all long dead. None of their weapons showed any signs of recent use. A massacre, Davos thought. Whatever happened here, they didn’t stand a chance.
“We should bury the bodies,” one of the elves said to Davos, but he shook his head.
“Belkai needs to know what happened here,” he replied. “These people are gone. There is nothing that we can offer them now.”
The elf stared at him for several long seconds, then reluctantly turned and mounted his horse. The eight of them headed back west, leaving the cursed place behind them. Someone sang a funeral dirge as they rode, a final tribute to the dead town. Other than that, no one spoke until they reached the safety of Narandir.
***
Belkai wasted no time gathering Davos and Lithmae to discuss the revelations. Loranna stood nearby, keeping watch as she listened to the three hold their war council. They sat on the platform where Belkai had met the dwarven emissaries, and they didn’t bother lowering their voices. Any elf could have heard them even if they tried to be quiet. Talking normally would raise much less suspicion.
“Shontelle was telling the truth, at least so far as we could tell,” Davos announced. “The town was wiped out. For the most part, there was barely a drop of blood. Every corpse was drained, fang marks in their throats.”
Belkai took a moment before she responded. “They didn’t manage to kill any of their attackers?”
“Not that we could see,” Davos confirmed. “The militia seemed to have been ambushed in a nearby field. Some of them managed to escape back to Solstia, but they didn’t survive.”
“A whole town…” Belkai murmured.
“Except for Shontelle,” Lithmae said, and looked at them both. “For what purpose? Belkai, you said that her warning was that this Ertas and Rangir were in danger?”
“That’s correct.”
“So they wiped out an entire village just to warn you that two soldiers would die?” Lithmae frowned. “This makes no sense.”
“Davos, we thought that perhaps one of Mishtar’s children was behind this,” Loranna said, coming closer to the group. She stopped short when Davos shook his head.
“I would recognise their scent,” he told them. “Someone was watching the attack from a nearby hill. I didn’t recognise the scent. It was strange. Human, but not quite. There was an animal quality to it. I’ve never encountered anything like it.”
“There was no direct threat made to you?” Loranna asked.
“No, I only got the impression that those around me were in danger. So far, at least,” Belkai replied. “None of this makes sense.”
And why would Yulen be dead?
“We need someone else’s input,” Davos said. When Belkai gave him a questioning look, he said, “I want to go to Svaleta and consult the Prophetess.”
“She has a wealth of insight,” Loranna agreed. “Belkai, I would suggest it.”
Their lord nodded slowly. “Okay. Make it happen. Do you want an escort?”
“One rider will not raise attention,” Davos replied. “This is not something that we need to make public.”
“Be quick, Davos. I don’t like where this heading,” Belkai said. “Something isn’t right here.”
***
The next day, a group of travellers from the Tios Principality reached Solstia. They found the marketplace unusually empty and wandered silent streets looking for the residents. There was not a single body to be found. It was as if the entire village had simply picked up and left.