She felt the death of her last warrior, and hoped his failsafe plan would work, knowing in her heart that this fight was truly over. She was well fed, and able to fight, but the hunter had a determination to destroy them all, which she had not counted on. He was like a demon of vengeance, come to gather all the damned in for their time in Hell, and nothing was stopping him.
Each of her children, and those she had freed from Tamiko, had died at his hands. Now, she could see the burning, impaled bodies of the remaining Blood Drinkers in town blazing between the distant shore and the south wall of the town. She could hear others dying here, as the hunter either stumbled upon them by accident or tracked them to their hiding spots. Screams of rage and hate, pain and misery, as he destroyed them to ensure they would not rise as their lovers and mistresses had as damned undead blood sucking demons.
Katlayna had begun to worry she had indeed become a demon, and thus able to banished to hell for eternity. never to return to the world to feast on blood again. Slowly weakening as other demons and devils tortured her. She had scoffed at her upbringing until now. But this moment changed everything, for it might be her last. Now the Pangaluang were real again to her, creatures powered by her ancestors, carp dragons come to slay those who should stain the family honor. To avenge a family destroyed, and lift back up a family broken and scattered when needed.
When the final ones died, she walked to the great central pond the many canals led to in the necropolis, thinking she should wait there for her slayer to come. She never noticed when the hunter stood at the edge of the trees, and fired a shot from his bow to her heart with an arrow of tipped with a saint's blessed medal from behind. All her vision was filled with the ethereal dragon that had come to avenge the family she had betrayed. A family wronged from within.
Scorpio watched as a shadowy beast tore the vampire queen apart, not sure what he was seeing until the spirit wolf, eagle, otter and beaver appeared between him and the beast. It was only then that the cat slits in his eyes opened to round circles, in realization that as his gods were real, so too were those of this place. Surely the lion fore-bodied beast with the tail of a carp was the dreaded Pangaluang, spirit guardian of some family.
The beast gathered the pieces of the vampire, and drew a circle in the dirt around them with a mighty claw. Within that boundary fires so bright and hot suddenly leapt up that the hunter threw an arm before his face to keep the heat from searing his face. When the glow died down, in the light of the moon there was only the beast, fully formed, green in color, with the mark of Itazaki's house upon its forehead.
**You must finish the last of them, hunter. I may not leave the graves, but you must end the last damned one for me. His daughter took him during his mourning for his wife, and turned him into another damned soul.** The voice was louder than the one of the goddess of the glade, full of rage not regret. **They impugn the honor of the clan by staying after death, and not returning to the realm of souls. It will hurt what I ask, but you must do this, for the town as well as me.**
Scorpio nodded, wishing he this night dearly that he was still just Tagrun of the Kenrai, not Scorpio who hunted bounties and the damned.
One last person to slay. Or at least he hoped it was a person, and not what Katlayna had claimed, that he came to face. And get some answers from before it was over, he hoped.
*****
*****
The chimes over the mat hanging over the entrance chimed as he walked into the shop of the merchant in foreign goods and scrolls. Inside was a new thing, a maze of hanging rugs and drapes designed to keep out the sun. An ill omen for what was to come, and omens were deeply in the mind of the no longer young hunter. The Kenrai clansman was worn and battered, only the healing he had gained a few hours ago by the mercy of one of the healing gods had kept him alive so far. He trusted very little in magics now, having seen how twisted things associated with magic had become in this town of late.
Scorpio parted the drapes, but did not rearrange them. If his friend was truly now a vampire, he would no longer be his friend. He drew the chablys saber one more time, ready to use it on his friend.
"There is no need, Scorpio. Just open the drapes, and let the sun do me in. It would be a kindness." Itazaki's voice was soft, not seductive as the other vampires had been, but mournful.
"How did it happen, Itazaki?" The hunter had to know, even if he would regret it forever after.
"Simple, I was a Blood Drinker in my youth. I gave the Leech Witch the books she needed to ascend to glory. I was the keeper of all things damned. In my heart, I knew what I did was evil, but I cared not." The shopkeeper paused. "I twisted the child, I had a sick place in my soul, that never truly healed. I took advantage of her charms. And when she left the inn, she gave them to me again, as she had so many times in past. In our disgrace, I gave her my blood, while she gave me something else."
Rage and anger at the betrayal roiled in the heart of the Kenrai clansman. "The necromancer, you helped him flee town. Yet put me on his trail. Why?"
Itazaki laughed. "There are beings beyond your comprehension, my simple hunter friend. Now open the drapes, and let me burn in the dawn. Do not stain your blade on me. The only thing I ever regretted, was betraying you so many times."
With a move as sudden as the sting of his namesake, the drapes were cut down, and then the bamboo shades to the outer world. The shopkeeper had already opened the doors that barred the eastern arches by night. With the sun rising over the city wall pouring in, the rays of pure light destroyed his best friend. Tears trickled down Scorpio's face, as a gust of wind scattered the ashes around the room, never to be a man or vampire again.
*****
*****
She was hidden in the hard box wagon, draped inside in such a way to prevent the sun from entering the shelter she hid in. Still Tamara, who had lived as Tamiko for so long now, felt unsafe, sure the burning rays would enter, and turn her to dust. Every jolt made her anxiety rise, worrying the top heavy wagon would tip over. She had fled the night the hunter had returned, covered in so much blood and dust that few could stand to be near him. The scent had nearly broke her centuries of control, and driven her over the edge into the same frenzy her wild children had succumbed to.
So she had fled the town of her birth and unbirthing, to find another place for a time, until Cosarali proved safe for her to return. Time was on her side. Being immortal, even if the undead kind, gave her that advantage. But the town would have changed by the time she returned, which would be measured in tens of years, not months this time. She hoped it would not have changed so much she could not re-establish herself as a Mistress of the nightlife, and raise new children to aid her control of the town.
She was jarred mightily as the wagon came to a sudden stop. Outside she heard the sounds of struggle as her few remaining living servants were attacked by something. Panic ruled her, if they opened the door, she would be ended, utterly. The sounds ended, then the wagon moved a short distance, only to stop. A rap on the side, down by the bed, let her know someone knew there was someone who knew she was inside.
Then came the voice, the one she knew would come for her someday. "Sorry, Tamara, but the boy is right, we cannot let your kind continue to live in the town. Even if you were gone a century, it would not be fair to those to come afterwards. But as your friend of old, I take this upon myself. Know this in whatever hell you go to. It was a friend who set the wagon afire."
She screamed in fear and rage. To her this was not an act of friendship, but betrayal. She wished it had been night, but knew that her slayer had chosen day to prevent her escape. A nice, bright, sunny one. She heard the oil being splashed on her mobile tomb, and began to sob tearlessly. The sudden burst of flames and heat that came with the ignition did not startle her, she was already beyond knowing anything but the horror of where she was headed. The flames consumed the wagon, and her long dead flesh, giving her the first taste of the tortures she had earned in the hells.
Jinatozu stood watching the wagon burn to the ground. Tears streaked the face of the Grand Master of the Allegiance of Blades' face. He had warned Tamara when she submitted to the bite of that bastard blood sucker lover of hers. Warned her that some day he would have to take up the blade with the glyph for her on it. But she had never heeded the warnings of any before, so why should she have done that then. Or now.
The Dyermo sighed, feeling his own years of life. But he knew there was one trained now to take his place, not as the leader of the guild, but its conscience. He only hoped the young clansman lived up to the promise he had shown until know, and did not let his hate of the undead and necromancy destroy him. When the wind picked up, and the ashes and dust from the wagon began to stir and scatter, the grey skinned dwarf moved to his pack pony, and led it up hill from the dying embers of a friendship that was not really a friendship, just an walking together for a while.
The knife maker in Cosarali never was seen again in the artisans' ward. Some said he had died at the hands of the vampires, others said he had moved to distant Rahab. Only the hunter and the Mage of Shadows knew the truth, and the latter stayed silent when asked. The former walked back out to the edge of the prairies beyond the Iron Spur, and spread his wings over the grass, as an eagle should. Carrying a wealth of gold coins to his people, of which, for a change, he kept none.
*****
*****
In the stormy seas of the Great Water, the captain sat in his cabin, staring at the three coffins he had taken aboard from a Blood Drinker in the night after leaving the port of Cosarali. He knew what was in them, three beautiful vampire girls, all sixteen winters in age. Ready to rise with the setting of the sun. He picked up the bottles he had been given by the magus who had sent him to that place originally. From each, he filled a chalice with the blood in the bottles, and waited for the Mistresses to Rise, dreaming of the wealth the magus had waiting for him in the Domorushtuun city of Dhibt. And of the blood the Mistresses would let him share with them. His, theirs, and that of many other cattle to the slaughter.
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