Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (42 page)

Over a hundred thousand lives had been lost in the months it had taken for them to push back the forces the Siniquitans had arrayed against them. After trying to read and remember a list of every name, he realized that the task was nearly impossible. There was a small chance that he could make it out alive, but it would most likely mean relying on the scroll that the Arch Magus had given him. If he survived, he would continue on, but if he died he wouldn’t have to hear the voices of the dead in his dreams anymore.

The first of the Dracairei slid silently beneath him on the ground, rousing him from his thoughts.
Great time to get lost in your misery you sad old bastard.
It was an unkind thought, but it nearly made him laugh, which would have certainly spelled his defeat. As the Dracairei fanned out below, looking for the slightest trace of his passage, he smiled grimly. Birds began to chirp to the north and he realized that the sun was beginning to crest the horizon to the east. He had run through the night, far away from anyone who could render him assistance.

Pulling two daggers, he threw them at the two Dracairei furthest back. Both daggers flew true, but one of the assassins seemed to sense the blade as it shot toward him and tried to dodge out of the way. The first dagger took the unaware Dracairei in the shoulder, sticking in to its hilt. Not quite moving fast enough, the second assassin was saved a wicked wound to the neck by taking it in the arm instead.

As soon as the daggers were out of his hand he had begun to move. He ran across the large tree branches, hopping from one to the other knowing that pursuit wasn’t far behind. The Dracairei heal quickly, though not nearly as quickly as their more martial counterparts, and it wouldn’t take long for either of those he had wounded to recover. However, every blow he made against them chipped away at their endurance.

One of the Dracairei was tracking him from the ground, trying to run ahead of him to slow him down so the others could catch up from the trees. He heard mad laughter as he flew through the air towards the Dracairei below a moment before he realized it was coming from his lips. The assassin’s eyes went wide as he turned to see a human sized missile flying at him with daggers extended. Had he begun to move before displaying his incredulity, he might have survived, but as it was the assassin only managed to dodge one of Stewart’s daggers, and only for a second.

His dagger bit in deep. He put all of his strength into holding onto it, using it and his momentum to swing around the Dracairei and plant his other dagger in the assassin’s neck. He let go of the first dagger as he and the body hit the ground and pulled his shortsword to lop off the Dracairei’s head. Once removed, he kicked the orb as hard as he could deeper into the forest and continued his escape north.
Five to go.

Something tore through the cloth on his right leg and he felt hot liquid roll down his calf. As much as he hoped it was just sweat, deep down he knew it wasn’t. It was only a graze, but if even a little bit of whatever concoction the Dracairei dipped their weapons in got into the wound, it would only be a matter of time until they got him. Weaving through the trees, he managed to duck out of sight several times, slowing his pursuers who didn’t seem willing to come around a tree trunk and find him waiting.
Smart of them.

Stewart wondered how long he’d be able to keep this up before they wore him down enough to kill him.

Chapter 23

A Dance with Death

Year: 3045 AGD

Midwinter Festival

Serenity Valley

              The Midwinter Festival was finally here, and with it came the dance the entire Institute had been talking about for the past month. Shawnrik was fairly certain he had never felt so nervous before in his life. Surely it was a great day to be alive. He and Verrian had been trying to keep themselves occupied as the hours counted down to when the dance would begin, but each time they found themselves glancing from the clock to the suits that hung up behind each of them and then to each other, and each time they grinned like idiots before trying to focus on the cards in front of them only to repeat the same process a few minutes later.

              That day dragged out forever.
Surely this is the longest day anyone has ever lived
, Shawnrik thought, unable to imagine circumstances more nerve-racking than this. He won two and lost one long, drawn-out, game of cards before it was time for them to get ready for the dance. They showered and checked their hair in the mirror a dozen times before heading back to their room to change.

              Verrian’s suit was a light blue color just a few shades off from his ring. They had held a long discussion earlier in the day on whether or not his purple sapphire cufflinks would go well with the suit or not, and had both determined that they didn’t understand fashion well enough to have an opinion. After dressing, they wandered back to the bathroom to make sure that everything looked right, even though they assured each other that they looked fine.

              Waiting for them outside were four very stunning young women. Vivianne stood on the far left wearing a dark orange dress that seemed to be missing a fair amount of fabric on both the top and the bottom. Her shoulders and chest were well displayed, the whole thing was seemingly held aloft by two small strips of cloth. Next to her stood Rebecca, who was wearing a blue dress the same color as her eyes. It was slightly more modest than Vivianne’s dress, higher in the chest, but still showing her shoulders, while the bottom fanned out well past her knees. This dress didn’t have the two strips of fabric that Vivianne’s had, and Shawnrik thought it must be held aloft by magic.

              Next to Rebecca and standing slightly back was Syranna, who was wearing a yellow dress that seemed to be a mix between Rebecca and Vivianne’s dresses. It was lower cut than Shawnrik had ever expected to see on the usually reserved elf, but he thought it made her green eyes sparkle. She kept looking down at herself whenever the hem of her dress brushed her knees. When she saw him looking in her direction, she smiled slightly and took another step back.

              Last but certainly not least, in Shawnrik’s eyes, was Olivia, who wore a silky dress that was closer to red than purple and flowed down around her feet. The top was like Rebecca’s and didn't have any straps, held aloft by some secret art. She held a long piece of cloth that was made out of the same fabric as her dress wrapped around her back and over each wrist. He thought she looked like some sort of gypsy queen.

              “I’m pretty sure that means we look good, too,” Vivianne said with a smirk.

              Shawnrik only realized after she spoke that he and Verrian had both stopped walking and stood slack-jawed staring at the girls. Olivia, Rebecca, and Vivianne flowed towards them, smiles lighting their faces, but Syranna’s face was a bright red as she trailed behind the three.

              “Ladies, you all look exquisite tonight,” Shawnrik said as he took hold of Olivia’s outstretched arm. “Especially you,” he managed to whisper as she took her place beside him.

              “Damn right,” she whispered back while her left eyebrow rose slightly.

              “Ladies,” Verrian squeaked.

              “Oh look, he’s tongue tied,” Vivianne said.

              “Don’t tease him, he might run away,” Rebecca replied.

              “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Shawnrik said over his shoulder as they began to move towards the hall where the dance was being held.

              “Why’s that?” Olivia asked with a twinkle of humor in her eye.

              “Do you see that grin on his face? I don’t think there’s any place he’d rather be.”

              “What about you?” Syranna asked from slightly behind Olivia’s left.

              “Is there any place I’d rather be?” Shawnrik’s mind wandered for a moment as he wondered where his friend was now. He shook his head. “No.”

              “Liar.” Olivia breathed and looked disappointed for a moment before her smile returned. “Remember, we are living in the now. Let’s make this a night we’ll never forget!”

The people of Verge seemed to take the bonfire in the middle of town as a reason to start the Midwinter Festivities early, and had been well into getting themselves good and drunk by the time the boy made it back to them. As luck would have it that had meant that there was a horse left unattended near a building he thought might be an Inn. He had hopped into the saddle of the massive beast and found that his body seemed to know what to do even if his mind didn’t.

That had been many hours ago, though, and the horse was now in a full lather as they trotted along the roadside. It was late afternoon by the time he saw two specks resolve in front of him on the road ahead. As he neared them, he let out a sigh of frustration. He didn’t know what Stewart Cantel looked like, since he had only caught a glimpse of the man from a distance in the dark, but he had a feeling that the man he had seen wouldn’t be casually strolling down the road heading north. Not only that, but the man had a girl who he thought might be around the same age as himself with him.

“Excuse me,” the boy said as he brought the horse to a walk.

“Yes, young man, how may I help you?” the man asked as he turned, annoyance flickering across his features.

The girl’s mouth dropped open for a moment before the man dropped his hand on her shoulder. She flinched and looked up at him before looking down.

“Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a man go by? He might have been followed by a dozen men.”

“No, we haven’t seen anything like that, have we Ana?” The man squeezed the girls shoulder.

“No, nothing like that,” the girl said keeping her eyes pointed towards the ground.

Something was off about these two, but whatever it was he didn’t have time for it right now. Cantel must have left the road somewhere along the way. If the boy was lucky, he might be ahead of the pursuit. Of course, if he wasn’t lucky the man would already be dead and the boy would be lost in the forest for hours.

“Here,” the boy said as he dismounted. “I have been riding at a trot fairly steadily for half a day now, so you might want to give her a lot of rest before you try to use her.” He handed the surprised man the reigns.

“Where are you going?” the girl asked, her tone slightly odd.

“Into the forest to see an old friend, I suppose.”

The two stood there looking at him like he was mad for a moment before he turned and started towards the trees at a jog. Once he neared the forest he spoke. “Hey Cypheria, if you are paying attention, mind giving me a signal on which way to go?” A moment passed and he sighed, but then a loud crack like a large branch breaking came from the southwest.
That works.

              Stewart Cantel had been fairly certain he was about to die. He had managed to take out two of the assassins in the last few hours, but three of the Dracairei were still alive. One of the Dracairei had managed to get ahead of him and sprung out of the bushes in a spot where there was a large tree blocking the path to either side. He had turned around to see another Dracairei standing on a tree branch ten feet behind him.

Taking a deep breath, he was about to engage the one on the ground and try to break through him when suddenly the branch that the one in the tree had been standing on snapped. The assassin tried to grab another nearby branch but missed. He tried to tuck into a roll as he hit, but one of the smaller branches from the fallen limb caught his shoulder and tossed him several feet into a heap. It wasn’t much of an opening, but it was enough for Stewart Cantel to break free from the trap and continue the running battle.

              He tossed a dagger at the Dracairei that had managed to cut him off, and in the same instant he began moving again. Though he was loath to lose any more of his daggers—he was running low on them—it was a necessary loss. The assassin attempted to grab the dagger out of the air, but only managed to bump the end of the blade as it sailed past his hand. That bump managed to change what could have been a potentially fatal hit into an annoying distraction as the blade penetrated the Dracairei’s upper arm.

              Knowing he didn’t have time to stop and finish either one of them off, especially because there was a third assassin somewhere nearby, Stewart Cantel ran off into the trees. His body was far beyond the point of exhaustion, but every time he thought it would give out on him he managed to pull just a little bit more from it. One way or another, this pursuit needed to end soon. Patting his body as he ran he realized he only had three daggers left out of the twelve he had begun the day with.

              Cantel saw a flash of movement coming from the left, and that was the only warning he had as the third Dracairei leapt at him. Managing to grab the assassin's outstretched wrist, he used the Dracairei’s momentum against him and stepped to the side as the man flew through the air. A sickening crack sounded from the assassin's hand, and the dagger he had been holding fell to the ground. To the Dracairei’s credit he didn’t flinch as his wrist broke, instead bringing his other arm around to strike.

              A sharp pain jolted through Cantel from just under his right armpit. Cantel's short sword erupted out of the assassin’s chest as he impaled the man from behind. The dagger in his side fell out to the ground, its tip crimson. He was suddenly having issues breathing.
The bastard punctured a lung.
Knowing his time was up, he looked around for a better place to meet the two assassins that were left.

              Knowing there were up to seven highly trained killers running around in the forest somewhere ahead made him take each movement from tree to tree very seriously. After running around on the ground for some time, the boy realized that he would never be able to see anything moving through the forest unless it was right on top of him, so he climbed a tree and began to move along the intersecting branches as best he could.