David Gemmell - Morningstar

But we saw no living creature. Bodies lay everywhere — livestock, horses, dogs. All drained of blood.

At last we came in sight of the palace and Mace ducked behind a high wall, beckoning us to follow him. There were two sentries, hooded and cowled, standing in the shadows beneath the arched double doors of the Governor’s Residence. They were some fifty paces distant, and they had not seen us.

‘What now?’ asked Raul.

Mace leaned in close to Wulf. ‘Do you think you could hit the man on the left?’ he asked.

The hunchback glanced found the wall and sniffed loudly. ‘As long as he stands still. We need to loose our shafts together. Either one of them could raise an alarm. You take the one on the right.’

Mace took several deep breaths, then looked at Wulf again. ‘Ready?’

‘Aye.’

The two bowmen stepped out into the street, drawing smoothly back on their bowstrings. ‘Now!’ ordered Mace. The silver shafts flashed through the air, arcing high and then dropping. Mace’s arrow thudded into the chest of the man on the right, he stumbled back. His companion turned — and Wulfs shaft plunged into his neck. ‘Let’s go!’ snapped Mace, sprinting across the open ground towards the palace.

The first guard had fallen to his knees, but now he struggled to rise and began to crawl up the stairs towards the double doors. Corlan pulled up and loosed an arrow that took the man low in the back. He reared upright, then tumbled back down the stairs.

We reached the doors and pushed them open.

The hall inside was deserted, dark hangings blocking the sunlight from the six arched windows within. The smell which greeted us was musty and unpleasant, part mildew, part corruption.

We moved inside, closing the doors behind us. Corridors led off to left and right and a long staircase lay before us, the carved hand-rails gleaming with gold leaf.

‘Now what?’ whispered Wulf.

‘Find the bastards and kill them,’ said Mace, but there was uncertainty in his voice. The hall was huge, the corridors dark and forbidding. Where would we find the Kings? Above, below, left or right? And how long did we have before dark?

‘Owen, you and Wulf take the corridor to the left,’ said Mace. ‘Corlan, you and Ilka go to the right. I’ll take the upstairs. Raul, you come with me.’

‘You think this is wise?’ I asked him. ‘Splitting our force this way? Can the spirit of Megan not guide us?’

‘She is gone,’ he said softly. ‘And if we were wise, Owen, we’d follow her lead. Let’s move!’ Without another word he ran for the stairs, Raul following.

Wulf swore and laid aside his longbow and quiver. ‘It will be no use in there,’ he said, drawing his two short swords. The blades were so bright the eye could not focus upon them. I drew my dagger and we moved to the left. Within a few paces we found the entrance to a stairwell, winding down below the palace. Wulf swore again, keeping his voice low. ‘I must be insane,’ he hissed as he descended the first few stairs. I followed.

For some time we moved through deserted corridors, down stairways. All around us was an eerie silence and I could hear the ragged, frightened rasp of Wulf’s breathing and feel the pounding of my own terrified heart.

The only light was cast by our flickering blades and all the doorways we came upon were locked from within.

I tapped Wulf on the shoulder. ‘This is pointless,’ I whispered. He nodded, and we began to retrace our steps.

‘Beware Owen,’ hissed the voice of Megan in my mind.

A whisper of movement came from behind me, like a breath of cold winter air. I spun and lost my footing — it was that which saved me. Cold, cold hands touched my throat, but I was falling and the grip failed to take. I slashed upwards with my dagger which tore through the black cloak, thudding into flesh beneath. The Vampyre screamed then, a high-pitched awful sound that filled the ears and stunned the mind. My hand froze. But Wulf leapt forward to ram his sword into the creature’s mouth, lancing it up through the brain. So great was the light from the blade that the Vampyre’s skull glowed red. Pushing myself to my feet, I plunged my dagger into the point where I felt the heart should be. But the blade merely rang against the stone of the wall, numbing my arm, and the creature’s cloak and tunic fell to the stairs. Of the Vampyre there was no sign.

From below we heard sounds of movement, and dark shadows played against the wall of the winding stair. ‘Back!’ yelled Wulf.

I stumbled back up the stairs. A dark-cloaked figure, moving with awesome speed, faster than a striking snake, grabbed at Wulfs ankle, dragging him down. Without thinking I hurled myself at the creature and sliced the dagger across its face, opening a jagged wound that did not bleed. Wulf stabbed upwards and once more the creature disappeared. But more of them were coming from below and we turned tail, racing up the stairs and into the hall.

A woman grabbed me, lifting me from my feet, but Wulf stabbed her in the back and she slumped forward, dropping me to the flagstones and falling across me. As she too disappeared, I felt what seemed to be a fine powder settling on my face and into my mouth. It tasted of ash. I retched and spat it out. Wulf spun on his heel and attacked the creatures storming the stairwell, but there were dozens of them and they forced him back. A dark sword plunged into his chest and the hunchback roared with pain, then sent a backhand cut that half severed the head of his attacker.

An arrow slammed into the forehead of the leading Vampyre and he fell. Wulf scrambled back, the black sword still jutting from high in his chest. A second arrow hammered into the throat of an advancing creature and I saw Corlan throw aside his bow and charge, his silver sword a blur of white light in the gloom of the hall. For a moment only I thought he would kill them all, such was the ferocity of his assault. But a jagged blade ripped into his belly and he fell into their midst. Wulf’s legs gave way and he slid down the wall, dropping his swords. I ran forward, scooping one from the flagstones just as two of the demonic warriors attacked. I tried to block a thrust, but the speed of the blow dazzled me and the sword moved past my guard — the blade missing me but the hilt cracking against my shoulder. Pain burst through me in a wave of fire. My arm was useless and the sword fell from nerveless fingers. Death was before me. I looked into the bone-white face of my opponent, the white-grey eyes, the pallid skin and the elongated canines. He lowered his sword and grasped my jerkin, dragging me forward as his mouth moved towards my neck.

Just then Ilka appeared, her sabre ripping into his throat. Raul Raubert, yelling an ancient battle-cry, joined the attack. And Wulf, brave Wulf, gathered his swords and heaved himself to his feet, half-stumbling in to the attack.

The Vampyres fell back, and at the rear of the group I saw a creature taller than the rest — face long and fine-boned, eyes slanted and dark. It was not the face I had seen formed from the blood of Cataplas, but the features were similar and I knew that this was one of the Vampyre Kings. My right arm was still numb, but drawing my dagger left-handed I hurled it with all my strength.

I am not — and never have been — skilled with weapons, but the blade flew to its target as if guided by the hand of destiny. It entered the creature’s right eye and buried itself all the way to the hilt. He screamed and his slender hands reached up, grabbing the hilt. But then he sagged and slid to the floor.

He did not disappear, but vainly sought to pluck the weapon loose.

‘Raul!’ I shouted. The head! The head!’ And I pointed at the struggling Vampyre King. Raul Raubert raced forward, his sword hissing through the air. It clove through the creature’s neck and the head tilted. Yet still the hands scrabbled at the hilt. Raul struck again, and now the head came loose, rolling to the flagstones.