“It just doesn’t make
sense,” I said. It was the next morning, after a night of all three
of us fitfully trying to get as much sleep as we could, in between turns
watching in case Brea came back. Given that she could probably get in and
murder us all before whoever was on watch noticed her, and we all knew it,
neither job was exactly easy.
“You expect sense from a
monster?” Iola asked, looking up from sharpening her sword.
“I mean, sure, she’s
terrifyingly capricious, but she’s not stupid. She could have killed Hragulf
and used the stone to make do whatever it is she wants me to do, or her own
mental powers. Why play this game?”
“You’re assuming she wasn’t
lying about wanting your service,” Iola said.
“Sure, but if she doesn’t need
one of us for something, why not kill us outright?”
“Vampires are known for
playing with their food,” said Iason.
I sighed and nodded. He was probably
right, but something didn’t quite fit. Oh well, worry about that later.
In the meantime, there was plenty to do. “That power of hers, moving blood
and people around. What was it you called it?”
“Hematokinesis,” said
Iola.
“Right,” I replied.
“Never heard of it, but from the name… some kind of blood magic?”
Iola nodded, and I grinned. “Good. Then we might be able to do something
about it.”
While I worked on that, Iola and
Iason gathered wood and carved some stakes. They probably wouldn’t do any good,
but if somehow all the iron-hard flesh and protective magic around Brea’s heart
were disrupted, plunging a stake in might be enough to slow her down. Plus I
had some ideas on ways to make them a little more effective.
After I finished working on warding
us against blood magic and all our other preparations, I pulled out The Rite
of Uncreation. It still scared me, and I still didn’t want to do it, but…
in a last-ditch emergency, between all of us getting killed by Brea and the
risk of all of us plus Brea getting killed by the spell, I’d take the spell.
And seeing as I already knew how to cast it, the responsible thing to do was to
learn how to cast it as safely as possible.
Yeah, yeah, me doing the responsible
thing, I know. Joke all you like, I’m not stupid. For all the times I set
people on fire, I never set anyone or anything on fire I didn’t mean to.
Well, not often.
As the sun set, Brea walked into our
camp. “Your decision, Lemma?” she asked.
I responded by launching a stake at
her with as much wind and force magic as I could get behind it.
It bounced off her chest, and she
laughed. Iason leaped out of the undergrowth, swinging his sword at her.
Brea casually flicked a wrist to
send him flying with her hematokinesis. “Honestly,” she said.
“Did you really think that would woaaaarrrggghh!” Iason’s blow caught
her on the wrist and visibly dug in about an inch. The sword began to glow a
dull red as it soaked up magic, and Brea shrieked in rage and pain as she
pulled her arm back. Her hand flopped loose for a moment, but rapidly
reattached itself and healed.
“You’ve found a way to protect
your blood,” she said. “Clever little duckies. But I’m afraid this
does mean I’ll need to punish you.”
She stalked slowly toward Iason, who
held his ground as she approached, sword up in a defensive stance–right up until
she was almost upon him, when he threw it at her. Brea laughed and easily
dodged aside–which was when Iola caught it and tried to stab her. Brea only
barely managed to get catch the thrust–literally, on her palm. There was a
light sizzle, but nothing like the earlier reaction, and Brea swiped at Iola
with her free hand. Iola parried with the sword, and again there was that
sizzle, even a little smoke. The sword was hurting her, just not enough!
Iola and Brea exchanged a few
thrusts and parries, but then Brea managed to push Iola off balance. She
started to fall backwards–and tossed the sword back to Iason, who slashed at
Brea’s back with it, forcing her to spin around and confront him.
Which meant her back was to me, Iola
was out of the way, and Iason was on the far side. I’d spent the whole time
they were fighting gathering as much fire magic as I could, packing it as tight
as it would go, and I launched all of it at her in a single fireball the size
of marble and bright enough to light up the clearing like day.
It struck her in the back, and she
howled as it gouged a clear burn mark in her flesh, red and raw and blackened
at the edges. She whirled to face me, snarling, and Iason stabbed her right in
the wound.
Her scream left my ears ringing, and
she spun violently, catching Iason and sending him sprawling. The sword
clattered to the ground, and Iola dove in to pick it up. She sprang to her feet
and swung overhand at Brea, who caught the blade in one hand and grabbed Iola’s
chin with the other.
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