With the fall of night, two dozen vampires invaded Cosarali, seeking nourishment and recruits. They came crying a wailing song. They moved through town without fear, some of their numbers were former members of a squad of the guard that had been sent to the necropolis to check for the vampires three days before. Closed doors meant nothing, for the siren song of the vampire women was powerful enough to seduce men and women to willingly open them, and present their necks for feeding. Throats were torn out and not just the undead feasted, but many Blood Drinkers joined their Mistresses and Masters in the terrible libations.
Terror echoed off the town walls, as the beasts and the human servants had become nightly callers. The guards no longer even left the confines of the castle, save when one of the bushi would break and give in to the alluring call to their death or snap in rage as a family member was slain before the great gate, the insanity driving the bushi to leap off the wall, to the doom of being slain themselves. The other guards had their orders, try to subdue or incapacitate them, other wise take no chances, and shoot them in the back if they leapt, as a mercy.
The Daimyo stood on the walls with his men, tempted to sortie out and make a final attack to die in. But the Imperial Inspector had refused to allow him that option already. It was irritating to him, this retreat to allow his people to be slowly destroyed. He remembered the destruction of Kvaeg only a few years before, one of the greatest of the city-states of Domorushtuu. It had been an awful thing, when the vampires had struck there, taking over the city, and killing over three quarters of the population. The once great power of that land was now a shadow of its former self. His town could not survive such a disaster.
It was only as the lesser moon reached its zenith, barely a few turns of the glasses of sands into the dark hours, that something gave him hope. The singing ended with shrieks of rage and fear. They saw the vampires turn away, suddenly leaving the town, some flying, many running, to answer some call or summoning. The Blood Drinkers followed, though some were caught to be burned alive by their neighbors, who took heart at the flight.
The great lady was suddenly at the lord's side, a smile on her face. Tension was moving out of her stance visibly. The grin chilled the samurai lord, in a way he could not believe a woman's facial expressions could before this night.
"Good, the hunter has begun to take his prey. They will be back, but their numbers will be reduced, trust me, Sorin. Your town will survive. Now we must rest, then prepare to explain this to the Emperor, together." She sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I feared they had got him."
Behind them, a piece of the shadows stepped forward. "Not yet, but they still might, Yoritoko. When you make those decisions, please, feel free to call on those of us who will aid you. This place has become home to more that are banned than just the assassins." They turned, startled, and realized that the Mage of Shadows was there with them. The shade nodded his head, and moved to them. "And know that not all the magics of the world are evil. Some have been used to mitigate this disaster already, and before it is over, I am sure more will be."
Three sets of eyes looked to the south, where the moonlight showed the rising fogs summoned by one of the blood sucking fiends to cover their return to their sanctuary. A sanctuary they seemed to feel was no longer safe for them, as the town had seemed for the people only moment before. Gomi Sorin smiled at last, remembering a thing a seer had once told him. That in an hour of darkness, evil would leave his home.
===
The least moon had set, and only the stars and greater moon were still in the sky. The shadows of that light made things look like a strange dream world. Scorpio moved through the world, staying on the surface for now, looking for more vampires to slay. Three more had tried his skills already. And paid the price. One shot with a wolfs bane tipped crossbow bolt, one having been staked after assuming her sexual allure really could arouse him to being foolish enough to accept her embrace. The last had been tougher, another of the guards, still seeking his first feast.
The hunter bore the marks of that battle, open wounds from the beast's talons, a torn vest stained with blood from another swipe at his ribs, and a limp from an ankle twisted as Scorpio kicked the foe into the rushing floodwaters coursing through a canal. The beast had died in the water, battered by the debris, until some branch in the flow had been rammed by the storm waters through his back and finding what was left of his dead heart. It was strange to see a vampire turn into a muddy stain in the waters, not dust. Strange, but very satisfying.
The Kenrai clansman had felt the eyes of some foe on him. It was not a psychic ability, to feel a gaze, but something that anyone who spent any time out in the wilderness developed. Survival could depend upon the ability to feel your surroundings and know when some other predator was around them. One could tell by many things, the direction the other creatures were silent in, the place where the leaves or grass either moved against the wind, or did not move at all.
He tried to get a sense of who was watching him, but could not. The undead were masters of deception, and other than the guards, and a select few others, he had not made many friends in the town over his years there. Nor had he ever visited the Inn of the Crimson Tide, which made figuring if it was one of the prostitutes difficult. He knew by the lack of breath sounds, it was not a cultist. The hunter made no effort to force the watcher into a mistake. Time was on his side, if it was a vampire, the watcher would soon need to feed, and thus attack him for his blood. In the attack he would know the demon for what it once was.
Scorpio stopped, something setting his nerves on edge. There was something calling, not in a range he could make out the sound of, but still in the parts of the scales he could feel in his bones. It was the screech of rage of their queen of night, he was sure, finding his sunstone in the tomb that had been very decorated, cleared around and surrounded now by seven very dead Blood Drinkers, impaled on the rusting iron fence around the tomb. The leader of the vampires had at last realized this was not one of her cat and mouse games. This was a challenge to her skills, her power, her authority. A threat to her continued existence.
But it was not their queen who was stalking him. The hunter decided he had enough, soon the island would crawl with vampires and cultists. All seeking to kill him. He had only a finger to a hand of the stars motion across the sky to act. He pinpointed the spot the vampire watching him was at, and spun, throwing his blessed spear with a fury that required a follow through somersault to keep his feet. He rose drawing the short sword he favored for close combat since the days in Kvaeg.
The blood fiend rose up, the spear grasped in her hand. One of the whores, it seemed, though she seemed different. More primal than the others he had encountered so far. Less in control of her urges. She licked her lips and smiled at him. "I always wished you had come to us at the inn, hunter of men. Such strength and determination. Even the Mistress of the Inn could not see that in you. All any saw was the lazy boy from the prairies, sitting at the dock getting drunk all day and night. But I noticed those traits. I almost wish I had come to gather you in. But then, I would not have been able to drink in all of your soul and blood, like I will now." She spiked the weapon into the soft loam of the necropolis, and beckoned to him. "Come, let us dance, stir up that powerful blood of yours, so I may challenge the new Queen of Night and become Empress of Blood."
Scorpio gave her the one thing he rarely gave in town. That smile he reserved for his targets. No teeth showed, it was just a curling of the lips on the left side, more of a smirk than a smile. One that said, "I am better, and we both know it." Neither spoke, Scorpio just stood with his blade at the ready, low and left posture, feet spread shoulder width, knees slightly bent, and the right foot slightly ahead of his right. She in her pose of seduction, legs peeking out of the robe she wore, hands on hips and breasts thrust out. Their eyes met, and the real battle began, the one for the control of his mind.
Sarita smiled and let her gaze and powers bore into his eyes, trying to tear into his soul through its windows, and claim him for her feast. She did not toy with the idea, as her sister in blood had, of making him a slave. He was far more dangerous than any of the others believed. She had studied hard at the brothel, between the layings she had with those women of the town and travelers of like inclinations, to learn the Dark Arts that had made her kind in the first place. Now she applied all that she had learned of the darkness transmitted by the bite and blood and the powers it granted her. She willed him to become calm, forcing her thoughts into his mind, relaxing the muscles by her will over his. The tendrils of the darkness of death magic formed where she could see them between her and the hunter, like the strings of a puppet, leading from his body in many places to her hands.
Strings that refused to attach, no matter how hard she tried. The more she concentrated on the iron rich blood of her opponent, the more they slipped away. It was only at the last moment that she saw the mistake she had made, when she noted that his wounds leaked ichors that were not beautiful, lovely red, nor rich verdant green, but an unholy, to her kind, blend. Samita's body jerked as the realization hit her, that those of the mixed blood of elf and human were immune to the spells and crafting she had tried to bind him in.
The motion set off the predator she faced. With fluid steps he was upon her, swinging the blade with a speed that was unbelievable to her still stunned mind. The stroke sent her head flying into the brush she had spent so long in watching him. Her body stood for a long time, the hands still trying to find the strings to bind her slayer with, not realizing the fight was over, as it no longer had direction. Scorpio laughed harshly, wiping the sword on the body's back, making it spin wildly to seek the source of the touch. He backed away slowly, sheathing the steel grimly, and with no pleasure. Scorpio remembered his first hunt again, the day the necromancer had tried, and succeeded with that little staring trick. That he had grown enough to fight it gave him hope, but the failure and price he had paid for it in the past still haunted him.
The hunter broke a branch off a long dead tree, honed it to a point with the red knife, and slammed it home into the vampire body's chest. The cloud of dust barely slowed the hunter, who searched the brush to find the head, its mouth moving in silent screams of pain and curses. Scorpio knelt, his left arm and the scorpion tattoo on it over his raised knee. He did not smile, gloat or say anything, just reached into his pouch, and pulled out a clove of garlic, and a vial of water so clear it shone in the night sky.
Samita could only watch in horror as he poured the holy water into her mouth, shoved in the garlic and held her jaws shut. The taste of the buds of garlic burned her, but nothing like the blessed vita did. Her eyes were the last flesh left, as her head lost cohesion, and the assassin was left holding a dry brittle skull whose jaws were filled with razor sharp teeth. He ended the possibility of her being revived by lifting the skull up, and tossing it against a nearby tomb wall. He finally smiled at the explosion of dust as the gods took their due from the one who had avoided aging and death for so long.
Scorpio recovered his spear from the ground, cleaning the weapon of the vampire's ashen remains with a piece of cloth he then left on the ground. He wanted no way for them to track him as he walked back to the channel he had crossed to enter the necropolis, removed the traps on one bridge. The scorpion then moved to a place he had noted since his first reconnaissance as a good hiding spot. He then did the hardest thing there is to do in any hunt.
He waited.
Eventually, the foes would come to him. And he would meet them, on the ground he had chosen to do so on. He leaned back against some ancient device buried in the vines and trees, until what dangled above him suddenly made him stand up, his wicked smirk twitching to be released again.
The vampires would never think of this being here, he was sure. Even if they did, they would be too arrogant to think he could use such. But what did they know of his times outside the town?
===
As each of her children, adopted and made, arrived, Yariko set them to some task or patrol. She could not let this vile hunter of her kind survive the least moon's waning over the next five days. She made her preparations with a skill learned from the dead husk of a warrior at her feet, as all he had been flowed through his veins and arteries through her fangs and throat to be hers. She had discounted the theories of Samita and her books until the past few days, turning to them to increase her power only as the guards they had taken gave them the word. Knowledge she was sure those in town wanted her to have, that it was a hunter who had successfully slain more of her kind than she had already gathered once before.
The vampire born to Itazaki and Narika as Yariko, known now as Queen of the Night, wished she had gone slower. That she had taken more time to build up a force to face this foe. But when her rampage had started, which she knew now was just the blood lust, the hunter had been gone for a long time, and rumor spoke he would not return. When he had, after three days they kept him in the castel, she was sure the Daimyo had executed him for being an assassin in that time.
Then the Scorpion had been unleashed. He had killed one of her children, then ran. She knew it was a feint, but after seven days, she thought he had fled, and on the tenth day, she had been so sure, after the Daimyo's attack, that she had let her children go wild, holding only those who volunteered on the island to guard her. It had been a foolish mistake. She knew that now, with the wisdom of battle gained from the warrior. With a leather stiletto heeled boot, she kicked aside the corpse, wiping the blood from her jaw and lips with a satin gloved hand.
She was finding she needed to feed more often now that she was using the Dark Arts, which was not how they were talked about by those few books that were the gates of seduction to their path. But the power, the sheer energy, she felt like her skin was not just bloated from feeding, but straining to contain the power she had gathered this day. Her only regret was she had not found a mage or another plainsman to suck into her body. But the warrior had been with the Roshen il-Myrmithions, what many called the mercenary's guild. A member with some stature. He and a few others had landed on the eastern shore of the archipelago that was the city of the dead, only to rapidly be captured and destroyed. She had even let the blood of one particularly virile young man of that group be the feast of her cult followers, after tearing open his throat and taking the first fruits, as it were, of his vessels.
Another raft arrived, this one of cultists, as they started to walk ashore, everyone heard the distinct sound, from the west, of a catapult. Fire arced across the sky, and the luck of the hunter was still with him, as the first and only shot from the ancient catapult struck true on the raft. Fire spread with the explosion of the naphtha pot he had launched, from some old engineer of war's open air tomb.
Katlayna danced away from the spreading flames, cursing the barbarian of the prairies, and herself for not ensuring such things had not been left unguarded. The screams of those not so lucky tore the air. Once she was safely away she barked a command at one of the freshly converted guards. "Find him, engage him, but do not slay him, he is mine, understood?"
The guard, a boy barely able to shave before his conversion, bowed. "As you command." She ignored the way he left, not noticing he made noise, and in the chaos of the explosion, she failed to note he had a heartbeat, faded red hair smeared with dirt, more green blood on his clothing, and walked with a limp. He smiled as the so called queen tried to restore order, ducking behind the nearest tomb, just as the other two naphtha bombs went off. The hunter grinned, thinking that the garlic and silver nails from the coffins in the bombs should have taken a few more. He shook his head growing somber. The catapult had been luck, and one should not rely on it. Take advantage of it, yes, rely, never.
Scorpio faded into the maze of tombs and channels, leaving the barrow he had used to deliver the death with, not out of need for speed, but another trap was rigged to it. One the vampires might not appreciate.
===
In town, the rainbow of fire caught the eyes of all on the wall. Gomi Sorin nearly choked on the cup of wine he had been sipping as the fiery shot slammed home, and twin bursts of light followed saying that some one was unleashing the dogs of war on his enemies. Lady Yoritoko had been looking into the garden below, where she had committed the unforgivable sin of buying an assassination, and missed the arch of the shot, but caught the bursts of light at the ground.
"I had not realized he knew of warfare," was her only comment. They watched for a while, as the fires died on the distant maze of islands and canals, the light of the blazes showing the water a red and orange light to match the blue of the greater moon's glow.
"He has many talents. He spent a year in the army of some Dux of the Vamoi, to get to a target, or so I heard." The Daimyo sighed. "I am tempted to tell the Emperor to catch our young hunter himself, if I am sentenced to death. Let him see what walked into my town and has blossomed into someone I dare not attempt catching, lest I provoke its anger."
Word of the flares spread through the town, where a few of the Blood Drinkers still were incognito among the population, as part of the plan. They gained their careful sips of nourishing blood from victims they feigned helping, or in back rooms hidden from view. Several already were regretting their choices. Others were being ferreted out by the guards and their fellow citizens.
The bad part was that anyone not of the local races was suspect. The Kiltyens had all fled at the first sign of the troubles, knowing the Leech Witch and her actions here were too recent, her having been a member of their clans still a sore spot. The dwarves all left for the relative safety of Gyevo's Enclave across the Kasatur, and the other folk fled by ship over the last week. But a few remained, several Vamoi sailors, who many were sure actually were scouts for the pirates from the isle of Lejui, and two Chigan Roshi, or syndics, died awful deaths in the streets as the cleansing began. The guard was ordered not to leave the walls, to let the townsfolk deal with things, unless they let the fires spread too much.
Few looked to see if the guilty were really guilty, and several Blood Drinkers took advantage of the situation to turn neighbor on neighbor. The town descended into chaos, even as the real threat was being eliminated to the south.
===
Dawn was a welcome relief to Scorpio. Seventeen more vampires and servants had died this night, and if the talk he had overheard was correct, he had over double that many more in the fire attacks at the beach. It was indeed a good night, but he still had to survive the day. He knew that only three of the vampires were left, one of the Blood Drinkers, given the status as a reward for loyal service, and two of the whores. Amongst the Kenrai clan, going without sleep was common, everyone had to take turns watching the herds, patrolling against intruders of the other clans, and many other dangers. Still, this was taking its toll on the hunter, who thought he had been fit, forgetting the troubles associated with nightwalkers.
He still had not a clue as to how many normal folk were left to face him, as the Blood Drinkers were only worried about their masters, and the master-less ones were getting restless, not sure there would be enough victims of the mistresses and master to go around. It had been interesting, listening to those conversations, before he ended their lives, realizing they had no will of their own, really, anymore. He was not so much slaying living people as squashing ants. And the analogy held, as he had to get the queen to finish the job.
Walking deeper into the forest, he headed to a place he hoped would be safe, one he had visited several times over the years in the town. It was a glade, open, with a simple old fallen temple, with a great stone idol of a woman cradling air, as if there was a wounded person in her arms. For the hunter, this place was so special, the peace he felt there gave him the ability to move on each time only reluctantly.
Scorpio did not know who the lady depicted was, whether she was the saint of some ancient order, a goddess or just a heroine of the locals of those days. The temple was gone, save the stone floor, steps leading up to it, and the roof and columns around the statue. It would be safe though, for experience, and a source that might lie, but not about things like this, had told him the undead could not enter the glade easily, and avoided the shelter of the ruined fane like humans did plague ships.
It was a half day walk, and for once he was glad he had started out before the first lightening of the sky to the east. He still had a ways to go, with some of the Blood Drinker cult trailing him he was sure. He felt sorry for them, and hoped the peace of that place would not be denied to him. By now he was sure, after the killings he had done, that the vampire queen bee was angry enough over his one night destruction of her power base, that she might come for him herself. He hoped so, as in the past, cutting the head off the snake had proven a useful ploy for him. The head held the worms together as a snake, which was useful, but once the head was gone, the worms either fled to start their own collection, or fought amongst themselves to be the new head, and rule the snake that survived.
Vampires had proven no different, at least not across the sea at Kvaeg. There it had taken him weeks to identify, even with the help of Tozuru and Railesh, the leaders of the packs of vampires, and learn that slaying them was the key to saving the town. But few indeed had the opportunity to learn about the nosferatu the way he had, from outside, guided by an insider. He only hoped that Railesh did not show this time, for he knew that the bloodbath was sufficient to summon the enforcer of the nightwalker society, but not which way he would decide this time.
The clansman left the main trails with an hand of sun still to walk, losing for the time being those that trailed him. Not for long, he was sure, but holy grounds, while not perfect in protection, would give him at least some sound sleep. He trusted the presence of the lady of the place he headed. He began to move with much more care, avoiding leaving the marks of passage he would look for, but certain with nightfall, unless the afternoon rains washed away his blood spoor scent, the vampires would come to hound him down.
When he reached the glen, the fog of the night that settled here often was just lifting, leaving the open space looking like a wide, white roofed temple. He crossed the close cropped grass swiftly, trusting to the sun's rays to erase the path in the dew and lifting grass to obliterate his footsteps. Once at the stairs he stopped, resting a few moments. Still hoping the presence here would not object to the death that hung around him, the hunter opened his mind to the feel of the world. Scorpio felt no malice, but not being a sensitive type, he was not sure if he would know that feeling if he met it.
As he rested he kept a careful watch, noting the tree line, the brush, the faint trace of the long forgotten road to Rantini further west. Only after he was satisfied he had avoided detection did he walk any further up to the temple. At the top of the stairs, he set down the hand crossbow, his sword, all but three of his knives, and the pack on his back, still carrying the spear, he walked over to the columned area that protected the stone lady, and knelt in respect before entering.
"Forgive the blood and death around me, lady who's name I know not. But I have taken a blade that is just, I hope. If you wish and let me know, I will leave. I have no idea if killing vampires and their minions disturbs your peace." He waited, not knowing what sign she would give, or if someone as faint in religion as him would recognize those signs if they were not big. When nothing bad happened, he entered, and went to one knee again before the statue. "I lay this here for you to judge, lady. I only ask that you let me finish this job, to prevent the complete slaying of Cosarali by the vampires, and clean the town of all taint of the Blood Drinkers for a while."
The hunter waited, and when he got no answer he could discern, he bowed his head. He detached the assassin's blade from his belt, and left it on the cupped hand of the lady. "Take care of this for me while I sleep. If I snore, please forgive me."
He took off his vest, folded it into a pillow, and lay down under the only bench left in the structure. His sleep was sound, for the few hours he got, so he guessed the lady at least was accepting the apology.
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