Chapter 14 Rhianelle
“That dead man is likely a Witch Hunter. I know that tattoo,” Kheirall explains, his eyes falling briefly on Jack’s mangled body. The Demon Lord’s wings sag to the ground like a broken butterfly.
“I should have fucking smelled it. He’s likely the one who summoned the Ashmedai,” Ragnar says, spitting a bloodied tooth. “But we have an even bigger problem at hand.”
His gaze lifts to the creature across the field.
The Nightwalkers are eternal and undying, the true immortals. I look at the pale face, at the unfathomable beauty and strength. There is no doubt about it. Rainer is right… Svenn is a vampire.
He keeps punching the stone slab with his bare hands, his knuckles cracking and healing with each blow. The power he uses could decimate a mountain, but the slab of stone remains unaffected.
The world seems to still with the tightness in the air.
Aelfric tenses. “Is it safe for us to leave now?”
All eyes shift to the Demon Lord with expectation.
“Fine. I’ll go and ask.” Kheirall heaves a breath then turns to me. “But first you might want to give me a heads up on what to expect, love.”
I tell them everything about the catacomb beneath our feet. Horror dances on some of their faces over the details of my tale. The two demons, however, appear more casual and relaxed, as if waking an ancient creature from the dead is everyday news for them. I have no doubt that it is.
“Who knew we had a vampire buried in our backyard?” Kheirall releases a resigned sigh and turns to Ragnar. “If I don’t make it, please throw the box under my bed into the Mariana trench.”
Some of Kheirall’s words are utterly strange but I must admit I am impressed with his knowledge. Demons have to learn every language from various worlds to make bargains. Now he’s our only hope of leaving this place alive.
His second merely nods at the request. Garrett suddenly captures the Demon Lord’s elbow in a firm grip.
“I don’t care for your box of secrets. Just make sure that creature isn’t a threat to my queen,” he says, his voice hardening. It’s rare to see the smiling knight so anxious.
Kheirall approaches the creature, lifting both hands in a show of surrender. It seethes at something the Demon Lord says.
“What are they saying?” I whisper to Ragnar. I realize the demon is still standing in his nakedness and my eyes close in astonishment at where my night has led.
“Kheirall is trying to ascertain the age and where he came from,” he answers. “So far, the Demon Lord has explained to him our current time. He has been locked here for at least a thousand years.”
Rainer passes a robe for Ragnar to make himself decent. An icy calm restores to my uncle’s face. “What language is that?” he asks.
“Several old human languages…” The demon frowns. “The Nightwalker seems to speak some of them well enough. My Galatian and Ancient Egyptian are rusty at best. I can understand better when they include some Old Norse. Neither of those languages I mentioned are the vampire’s native tongue.”
It must be frustrating for a scholar like Ragnar. It is for me too.
“A vampire…” Eamon’s mouth twists.
“I’ve not come across their kind for a long time. Not one of this primeval. You wiped them all clean with your purge,” Ragnar says, casting a direct look at the Aldarelfs.
I don’t have time to gauge their reaction to the remark when Kheirall returns to us with a triumphant smile on his face. “He promised to let us leave quietly.”
I can almost hear the shuddering relief from some of us over his revelation.
“What are you going to do with him?” Eamon suddenly asks.
“Nothing. He’s tied to the land by a spell.” The demon points to the stone Svenn has been desperately trying to demolish.
For a second, I can see a glimmer of green light from the ancient writings on the rock. Something is trying to inch its way out.
“This prison has held him for a thousand years. It’ll hold him for another thousand,” Kheirall casually says.
“The spell carved on that stone…I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ragnar mutters, crossing his arms.
“This land is cursed,” Tierra lets out a low breath. “I suggest we remove ourselves from this place immediately.”
“Agreed,” Aelfric says, ushering me away. I feel a strange sensation as if I’m being watched. Surely enough, as I turn, those scarlet eyes stare at me again. I cannot look away from him.
“Will he be a danger to my niece?” Rainer suddenly asks, noticing the Nightwalker’s attention on me.
“You have nothing to worry about. The curse is already pulling him back to where he belongs.” Kheirall’s dark eyes flicker. “By dawn, he’ll be stuck there for another century, or millennia, or for the rest of eternity I suppose.”
My heart clenches at the knowledge. I have felt the despair and doom of being in that dungeon. Svenn has been imprisoned there in solitude for a thousand years.
I keep looking back to the vampire until he is completely out of sight. This nagging feeling in my chest is unbearable, but there is something important I must do. The Hlaryan elves have already started gathering the wounded. I search amongst the crowd for Lady Deirdre.
“I need you to come with me,” I tell Rainer and the healer urgently. They follow me without question. My eyes begin to water the moment I see him stir in the bushes.
Shade didn’t bite the poison after all.
“You came back,” he says, surprise filling his usual bland expression. His gray hair is caked with mud and blood.
“Of course.” So many terrible things happened since I left him. I’m just glad he’s all right.
“I need to remove this,” Lady Deirdre says, trying to unlock the mask on Shade’s mouth. The male shakes his head fervently, opening his wound.
“Leave the stupid muzzle on,” Rainer sighs, rolling up his sleeve. “Focus on the life-threatening ones first. I’ll heal the small cuts later.”
Their conversation grows distant in my ears. The clarity of my vision starts to muddle as exhaustion takes over. I don’t fight the darkness this time as it swallows me whole.
A heavy metallic scent of blood and magic greets me as I wake up in the healing tent. I don’t remember how I got here but Aelfric is by my side, polishing his blade. Hlaryan elves have already started their treatment of the injured.
I watch silently as an acolyte tries to set Ragnar’s dislocated shoulder. “That’s it. You’re doing good. So good.”
“Use that sparingly. He has a praise kink,” Kheirall mutters, his tone teasing and light, but I note the edge of concern in it. The berserker’s wound is not as bad as I thought.
It was bad but you pulled a lot for him, dearest, the Un whispers in my ear. Remember, there’s always a price.
“Should have attended to our own first,” I hear Eamon mutter to Ctibor. The disdain in their faces over the demons’ presence is as clear as day.
My eyes frantically search for Garrett and Darstan. Both of my knights are already being treated for their superficial bruises by Tallula and Lenna. I catch Rainer resting quietly at the far corner of the tent.
A sensation of relief radiates in my chest over their safety.
“I have enough healing me. Go help that smartass who tried to tackle a vampire head on,” Garrett jerks his chin to Kheirall.
“At least I’m not the mad lad who tried to strangle him,” the demon grunts. My stomach heaves at the sight of the grisly wound on his back. I can’t believe he is walking with that injury.
“Your wings may need stitches. Lay on the table,” Lady Deirdre directs, petting the malachite crystal bed. Her eyes show she will stand no nonsense.
“It’s fine. Give the room to others. I’ll sit,” he mutters, his voice rough with pain.
“Careful, people might actually think you’re a good guy,” Aelfric muses, crossing his legs.
The demon sighs, “I’ve been called much worse.”
Their conversation fades as my mind wanders to Svenn. The thought of him stuck for another thousand years underground is unbearable. I’ve seen the spell that traps him in the dungeon. It’s a cold and wretched thing. To have suffered that torment for years…
The soft tune plays in my head once again. I feel the symphony in my heart and every nerve playing like an orchestra. A strange longing rises in my bones at the siren call. I need to go back to him.
“Rhianelle.”
Aelfric’s voice breaks me from my trance. I whirl, finding the knight seated in his chair with a frown on his face. I didn’t realize I had scrambled out of bed and snuck my way to the entrance.
The groove in his forehead deepens. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t just leave him,” I mutter absently. Every eye in the tent is watching me with rapt attention.
My friend drapes a blanket over my shoulders and pulls me to sit beside him. I still feel the chill from their stare despite the thick wool.
“The Queen is right,” Eamon decides. The four words are entirely surprising, especially coming from him. “All that power is wasted being buried in the ground. We can put it to good use.”
Sharing the same breathing space as the commissioner is enough reason to get out of here.
“Imagine if Aelfheim had that kind of force,” he adds with a calculating gleam in his eyes.
The attributes of Rainer’s angular face shifts momentarily, the only sign that he is displeased with their talk.
“If your strengths are restored, may I suggest you leave to accommodate my other patients,” Lady Deirdre says, trying to pair her words with a smile but failing. They ignore the healer’s request entirely and continue their deep discussion.
“What if he is tied to something else instead of the damn rock?” Eamon asks.
“You mean like a house, so he doesn’t have to stay in the dungeon? That is merciful of you,” Kheirall interrupts sarcastically.
“No. A person.” Eamon stares at the two demons expectantly. “Can it be done?”
A dangerous, loaded question.
“Technically, yes. Another binding spell can easily lift it,” Ragnar joins in. “But you’ll need a strong Blood Witch for the transfer and a moon such as this one.”