04 - Rise of the Lycans (12 page)

Hecate charged toward the carriage. The horse’s thundering tread alerted the
werewolf on the side of the coach. Turning away from its mortal prey, the beast
growled at Sonja’s approach. Gore dripped from its open jaws.

Whose blood is that?
Sonja wondered.
The girl’s?

A massive paw swung at her head, its lethal claws slicing through the air.
Sonja ducked beneath the claw and, in one smooth move, slashed her blade across
the werewolf’s abdomen. Hot blood sprayed from the gash, and the beast’s
steaming entrails spilled onto the ground. Howling in agony, the werewolf
clutched at its guts with its clumsy mitts, even as more of its innards dangled
from the grievous wound. A crimson flood gushed through its fingers. It dropped
limply onto the ground beside the coach. A billowing sheet of fog covered the
carcass.

Hecate trampled the body beneath her hooves. Sonja savored the monster’s
death.

If only she could have slain it a few moments earlier!

Off to the other side of the carriage, Raze fought for his life against the
unyielding chain. Swollen veins bulged beneath his skin. Beefy muscles, hardened
by years of backbreaking servitude, strained to the utmost as he dug his heels
into the dirt and tugged on the chain until his aching arms and back felt as if
they were being torn apart on the rack. His knuckles whitened and the rusty links dug savagely into his sweaty palms. But despite his strenuous
exertions, the chain refused to give even an fraction of inch. The trapped slave
feared that he wasting the last moments of his life.

Intent on his struggle, he nearly jumped out of his boots when the coach door
banged open only a few feet away. The sudden noise made his heart miss a beat. A
second later, a blood-soaked corpse slumped out of the carriage onto the ground.
It took Raze a moment to recognize the mutilated body as the master’s daughter,
Natalya. The girl’s throat had been torn open, her fine clothes ripped to
shreds. Glazed green eyes and a tortured expression captured the unspeakable
horror of her final moments. Every inch of her ravaged body was awash in blood.

May your ancestors guide your soul to Paradise,
Raze thought, mourning
her loss. Never mind that her father had enslaved him and treated him harshly;
Raze had not known the girl at all, but no one deserved to die in so barbaric a
fashion.
Let alone one so young and fair.

A werewolf leapt from the roof of the carriage, landing a few yards away from
Raze and the other prisoners. Its cobalt eyes glared at the hooded captives.
Drooling black lips peeled back, baring bloody fangs. Its hackles rose.

Raze looked around for help and spotted a bearded stranger wrestling with a
wolf near the back of the carriage. No knight, the man wore a tattered leather
vest and trousers. His spiked collar looked even more painful than the iron ring
around Raze’s own throat. The stranger had one arm locked around a werewolf’s
throat and was struggling to keep out of the way of the beast’s deadly fangs and
claws while hacking at the monster with a bloody sword. Clearly, he had troubles
of his own….

This is it,
Raze realized. It was now or never.
Freedom or death.

Gritting his teeth, he threw himself into one last herculean effort. He
yanked hard on the chain attached to his manacles and was rewarded with the
sound of a loud snap at the other end of the links. He staggered backward,
almost falling onto his rear, even as the ravenous werewolf pounced at him.
Gaping jaws offered him a view straight down the monster’s gullet.

Raze swung the severed chain like a lash. The iron links cracked against the
werewolf’s skull. The beast let out a hurt yelp and collapsed to the ground. Its
body twitched and fell still. A bloody froth spumed from its jaws. Raze whipped
the wolf again and again until he was sure it was dead, then looked up to see
the bearded stranger staring at him in wonder. His strange blue eyes took Raze’s
measure even as he withdrew his sword from the bowels of a fallen werewolf.
Steam rose from the monster’s exposed entrails.

“Impressive,” the man said. He lobbed his sword over to Raze before returning
to the fray.

Sonja called out to the carriage’s passengers, but no one answered. Concerned
for their safety, and fearing the worst, she jumped down from Hecate and hurried
to check on the coach. She took only a few steps, however, before the earth
erupted right behind her. Sonja spun around, sword in hand, but not fast enough.
A werewolf sprouted from the ground, like a mythological monster spawned from a
dragon’s tooth, and grabbed her from behind. A sharp pain stabbed her in the
side as the creature’s claws penetrated her metal cuirass. Her boots lost
contact with the slippery mud as she was yanked down into a yawning pit. She
hacked and stabbed at her captor even as she fell into the darkness.
Hellfire!

She landed hard upon a rough floor several feet beneath the forest. Driven
back by her sword, the werewolf retreated for an instant, allowing her to
hastily take stock of her surroundings. To her amazement, she found herself
trapped in a network of crude tunnels stretching away into the shadows. Tangled
roots hung like stalactites from the ceiling. Centipedes and other vermin
wriggled through the dank clay and earth. A few faint beams of moonlight
entering the underground warren via gaps in the ceiling gave her just enough
light to see by. Fog tumbled through the open pits. The pungent scent of the
werewolves polluted the air. She choked on the stench.

The size and extent of the tunnels astounded her. The beasts had built all
this, in anticipation of this ambush?

Perhaps they’re not nearly so mindless as we believed.

A quick glance informed her that she was far from alone. Werewolves infested
the tunnels like oversized rats, scrambling to join the battle overhead.
Meanwhile, the wolf that had snared her was closing in for the kill. Blood
dripping from his injured snout, the beast charged at her with murder in its
eyes….

Rounding the corner of the carriage, Lucian spotted Sonja at last. His heart
leapt with joy and relief.
Thank the fates she’s alive!
But before he
could call out to her, a werewolf lunged up from out of nowhere and dragged her,
kicking and shouting, beneath the earth. In an instant, she disappeared from
sight.

No!
Lucian raged.

He couldn’t believe that he had found her, only to have her snatched away from him at the last minute. He raced to where she had
been standing only seconds before. The forest floor trembled beneath his feet
and he looked down to see a moving hump of dirt shifting below the leaf litter
and other detritus like a gargantuan mole. His keen ears heard a snarling
werewolf racing underground—straight toward Sonja!

Empty fists clenched in frustration. What had he been thinking off, tossing
his sword to that defenseless slave? Glancing around for a weapon, he spied an
exhausted Death Dealer slumped against the trunk of a skeletal oak. The
vampire’s ebony armor was liberally splattered with blood, whether his own or
his enemies’ Lucian could not tell. Without pausing to ask permission, he
snatched the soldier’s sword from his grip and raced after the burrowing
werewolf. His fist tightened around the ornate steel hilt of the weapon.
Thankfully, only the blade was coated with silver.

The disarmed Death Dealer shouted in protest, but Lucian wasn’t listening.
Rescuing Sonja was all that mattered now.

If she wasn’t already dead.

Trapped underground like a prisoner in her father’s dungeons, Sonja scooted
backward until she bumped into a solid wall of earth. Gnarled roots snatched at
her hair. Cold vampiric blood seeped through the jagged gash in her armor.
Backed against the hard-packed clay, she fought to keep the hungry werewolf at
bay. The cramped tunnel made it difficult to wield her sword effectively, yet
she jabbed at the beast’s snapping jaws and cobalt eyes, while kicking out at
the monster with her spurs. The wolf’s huge head ducked and darted, searching for an opening
past her defenses. Its hot breath, redolent of raw meat and marrow, sickened
her. She found it impossible to believe that Lucian could possibly be related to
such a vile monstrosity.

Farewell, my love,
she thought,
I fear I shall not know your sweet
embrace once more.
She winced at the memory of their brief quarrel earlier.
It pained her to think that her final words to him had been so cold.
Please
know that I always loved you….

Despite her preternatural stamina, she felt her strength flagging. The wound
in her side burned like fire; blood loss sapped her energy. Her mouth felt as
dry as ashes and she would have killed for a fresh flagon of hot cattle blood to
restore her vitality. It had been too long since she had last refreshed herself
from the castle’s slaughterhouse. Alas, the foul ichor of the werewolves could
not slake her thirst. The very thought turned her stomach.

Beneath her armor, her body was soaked in sweat. Her dark bangs were
plastered to her smooth white brow. The heavy metal plates and chain mail felt
as though they weighed at least a ton. The tip of her sword wavered uncertainly
as her weary arm strained to hold it before her. Her lungs gasped for air in the
claustrophobic confines of the tunnel. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She tasted
salt upon her lips.

Sensing weakness, the werewolf lunged for her face….

Lucian heard the monster growl. His eyes zeroed in on the telltale hump
beneath the soil. Realizing that he had not a second to spare, he dived forward and buried the blade deep
into the ground. A savage howl burst from his lips.

Die, hellspawn, die!

Sonja swung her sword, but the blade snarled in the hanging roots. Unable to
wrench it free in time, she could only throw her head backward against the hard
clay wall behind her as the werewolf surged forward to rip her face off. Without
her helmet, nothing stood between her and beast’s fangs except empty air.
Spittle sprayed her cheeks.

It seemed she would not live to be an Elder after all.

Just then, when all seemed lost, a silver blade stabbed down from above,
piercing the werewolf’s skull. Its jaws snapped tight as it convulsed once, then
died without a whimper. The sword pinned the monster’s head to the floor of the
tunnel. Acrid fumes rose from where the silver seared its lifeless flesh.

Sonja blinked in surprise, startled to find herself rescued from certain
death.

What? How?

“Sonja!”

She recognized Lucian’s voice at once, even if she could scarcely believe
that her ears were not deceiving her. Squeezing past the dead werewolf, she
looked up to see Lucian staring anxiously down at her through the open shaft
above her. A gibbous moon haloed his worried face. Leaning over the crumbling
edge of the pit, he reached for her with outstretched fingers.

The welcome sight of him renewed her spirits. She had no idea how he had come
to be here, so far from the castle walls, but for now she didn’t care. It was enough that he was here
for her, just when she needed him most.

Leaping to her feet, she rescued her sword from the roots and gratefully took
hold of his hand. His strong fingers clasped hers as he pulled her up from the
tunnels. She breathed a sigh of relief as she scrambled onto the muddy surface
of the crossroads, safely free of the hidden warren below. The open sky,
glimpsed through the bony tree branches, was a vast improvement over the
stifling confinement of the subterranean tunnels. A cold wind blew against her
face. She no longer felt like she was buried alive. How on earth did the Elders
endure it every hundred years?

Lucian looked her over anxiously. His eyes widened in alarm as he spied the
bleeding rent in her armor.

“You are hurt.”

Her hand went to her side and came away wet and sticky. Overjoyed by Lucian’s
miraculous arrival, she had almost forgotten how the wolf had slashed her ribs,
but an excruciating pang brutally brought her back to reality. Her torn flesh
throbbed painfully. She tottered unsteadily upon legs that suddenly felt as limp
as cotton. The bright blue light in her eyes faded.

Damnation! What did that mangy wolf do to me?

Maintaining a stoic expression, she tried to dismiss the wound, but her legs
buckled beneath her and she crumpled onto the ground. Lucian dropped to her
side, visibly distressed by her collapse. Blood coursed from her side, pooling
beneath them. She winced as his fingers delicately probed the wound through the
gap in her armor. He didn’t need to tell her how bad it was. A few more inches and the monster’s claws would have disemboweled her.

A chorus of angry growls reminded them that they were literally not out of
the woods yet. Looking away from Lucian’s troubled face, she saw an entire pack
of werewolves circling them. There had to be at least a half dozen of the
relentless beasts, all intent on devouring their flesh and blood. Their cobalt
eyes glowed in the dark like a swarm of lightning-bugs. Lucian took her sword
and jumped to his feet to defend her. He brandished the silver blade menacingly,
but the wolves did not back off. Confident that their prey could not escape
them, they took their time as they cautiously closed in on the ill-starred
couple. Sonja longed to fight back against the monsters, but it was all she
could do to keep from passing out from blood loss. She sagged against Lucian’s
legs, holding onto him for support. Darkness encroached on her vision. Her
eyelids drooped.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Her eyes searched the misty
crossroads for help, but saw none forthcoming. If any of the other Death Dealers
had survived, they seemed nowhere nearby. Sonja feared that she was last vampire
alive in these woods.