David Gemmell - Morningstar

‘I know you all, your strengths and your weaknesses. But know this, that the fires in your souls will draw them to you. They will sense your presence, they will feel you close. Whatever you do must be done swiftly. You will have no time to hide and wait — once inside the city, you must strike fast and hard. And if a Vampyre is close, kill it. Remember what I told you: the enchanted blades will cut them down, or fire will consume them. Not so the Kings; they must be beheaded.

‘I will be with you. But, as I said, I have few powers left. Once inside the walls you will rely only on each other.’

‘God will be with us,’ said Raul. ‘I’m sure of that.’

Megan said nothing.

We crouched down in the undergrowth at the edge of the tree-line, watching the sentries prowling the battlements.

‘Why wait for the dawn?’ whispered Wulf. ‘Surely it would be better to creep down under cover of darkness?’

‘Look at them,’ answered Mace, pointing at the sentries. ‘Hooded and cowled against the coming light. They are Vampyres — and they can see in the dark better than you in bright sunlight. No, we wait. They will leave before the dawn, and then men will replace them. Still sleepy-eyed and half-dreaming of warm beds. That’s when we move.’

‘It is a great risk,’ muttered Corlan.

Mace chuckled. ‘Seven swords against a Vampyre city, and you talk of risks?’

Corlan grinned. ‘I think we are all insane.’

The sun slowly crept above the eastern mountains and the sentries disappeared from sight. ‘Now!’ ordered Mace, and we left the shelter of the trees and ran down the slope towards the walls. I kept my eyes fixed to the battlements, expecting at any moment to see a line of archers appear with bows bent, arrows aimed at our hearts.

But there was nothing and we arrived at the cold stone wall apparently undetected. Slowly we traversed the city until we reached the flood-gates set below the southern wall. The portcullis was old and rusted, debris clinging to the iron spikes.

‘What now?’ asked Raul Raubert. ‘It must be years since this gate was raised. It is rusted solid.’

Mace splashed into the murky water and moved closer, examining the latticed iron. Piercollo joined him. The giant reached out and took hold of a vertical bar, his huge hands closing around the rotted iron. The muscles of his arms swelled out and his face reddened with the effort; but slowly the iron twisted in his grip. Flakes of rust fell to the water, then two rivets snapped clear. Transferring his grip, Piercollo began to work on a second vertical bar, then a horizontal. Within minutes he had opened a gap wide enough to allow entry.

Handing his longbow and sword to me, Mace clambered through. I passed his weapons to him and followed. One by one the others joined us until only Piercollo was left on the outside. ‘I cannot make it larger,’ he said, and only then did we realize that he could not join us. His massive bulk would never squeeze through so small a gap.

‘Wait here for us,’ said Mace and, without a backward glance, headed off into the dark depths of the city sewers.

The stench was nauseatingly strong and I did not look down at the water swirling around my boots. We heard the skittering of rats, the scratch of tiny talons upon stone, but we waded on into the darkness. When Mace drew his sword it blazed bright, casting huge shadows on the gleaming walls.

None of us spoke as we moved on. Such was my fear that I do not believe I could have forced words from my mouth.

The tunnel branched to the left and we followed its winding course. A swimming rat brushed against my shin… then another. I drew my own dagger, and in the ghostly light saw hundreds of the black shapes swimming around me.

I almost panicked then and began to thrash about, kicking out at the rats. Mace waded back to me, grabbing my arms. ‘Keep calm!’ he hissed.

‘I can’t stand them!’They are not harming you, but you are making too much noise!’

I took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting for control. Ilka’s voice whispered into my mind: ‘I am with you, Owen.’ I nodded and swallowed hard, tasting the bile in my mouth.

‘I am fine. Lead on, Jarek.’As we rounded yet another bend I saw a corpse floating facedown in the filthy water. Bloated, the stink of corruption lost amid the foulness of the sewer, the clothes had snagged on a jutting stone. Two rats were sitting upon the dead man’s back. What a place to die, I thought. What an awful resting-place. There were more corpses further on — some in the water, some on the narrow stone banks. The light of Mace’s sword sent shadows across the dead faces, giving the appearance of life and movement. I could not look and fixed my gaze to Corlan’s back.

Suddenly Mace halted and glanced to his right. There was an alcove there, deep and shadowed. He stepped towards it and I saw a child huddled against the stone.

‘Don’t hurt me!’ she pleaded.

‘No one will hurt you, little one,’ I said, moving towards her, but she shrank away, her eyes wide and terrified. Wulf stepped in quickly, gathering a rag-doll which lay beside the child and holding it out to her.

‘Is this your friend?’ he asked, his voice gentle.

‘It’s Mira,’ she told him.

‘Well, you hold Mira tight, because she must be frightened. And I’ll carry you. Come on. Otherwise you’ll get wet and cold.’

We are cold,’ she said.

Wulf reached for her and she moved into his embrace, her head resting on his neck.

Mace’s sword slashed down, cutting through her back. She made no sound but slid from Wulf s grasp.

‘You bastard!’ roared Wulf.

‘Look at her!’ responded Mace. ‘And feel your neck!’I came alongside Wulf, saw the tiny puncture wounds in his throat and glanced down at the child, seeing for the first time the elongated canines, and blood upon her lips.

The tiny rag-doll floated away.

‘Who would make a Vampyre of a child?’ asked Raul Raubert.

‘How did you know?’ I asked Mace.

‘Megan told me. She is here with us. Now let’s move on.’

Wulf remained staring down at the corpse. ‘I will avenge you,’ he promised.

It was difficult to gauge time within the stygian gloom of the sewers, but it must have been several hours before we finally reached a set of iron steps set into the wall. Far above we could see daylight spearing through a metal grille. Mace sheathed his sword and began to climb. I followed him, anxious to be out in the open air no matter what perils might await us there.

Mace eased the grille clear and clambered swiftly to the cobbled alleyway beyond. One by one we followed him.

The alley was deserted and I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. To the right was the spire of the Church of St Sophas. To the left I could see the tall crenellated keep that was now a museum.

‘We are in the merchants’ quarter,’ I said. ‘The Street of Silk is down there, and that leads to the palace.’

Mace nodded and gazed at the sky. The sun was already past its zenith.

‘We don’t have long,’ he said grimly.

Sunlight was bright and warm upon our backs as we moved off through the city. Everywhere windows were shuttered, doors bolted. And beyond those white-washed walls, within the silent buildings, were hundreds of Vampyres awaiting only the night.

‘Don’t think of that!’ warned Ilka.

But I could think of nothing else as we headed for the palace.

As far as we could we kept to the alleyways and narrow streets, moving silently through the city past deserted market-stalls and shops. Mace was in the lead, an arrow notched to his bow. Wulf came next, then Raul, Ilka and myself. Corlan followed behind, his pale eyes watching every building, every shadowed entrance.