Читать книгу Lord of Snow and Ice - Heather Massey - Страница 9

Chapter 4

Two months later

Squatting flush against a tree trunk veiled in age-old bracken, Stellan watched his prey with a measured stare. His discipline was absolute–neither a muscle moved, nor a hair shifted. He’d been in the same position for an hour, and he greatly appreciated the cool air dampening his scent. Now, at last, patience had finally rewarded him.

A mountain lion crept along the carpet of leaves. The animal had wandered down into the valley, only a stone’s throw away from Aldebaran’s border.

Or rather, it used to be a mountain lion.

Its plaintive cries drifted through the air as though a newborn cub. Stellan had tracked it for a mile now. At first the beast had sounded feral and mighty as it wandered, casting about its glowering mien if even so much as an insect crossed its path. Stellan understood well its mood swings, for a strange transformation had overcome its body. The pitiful creature strained for an escape, one that would regretfully never come.

Slinking out into a clearing, the creature dragged hind legs that had become hairless and bloated, far out of proportion to the compact musculature of its torso. The mottled black skin jiggled like a full drinking sack. A constant twitch plagued its left ear. The feline trailed a brownish, gooey discharge, of which Stellan had already collected a sample.

Now was the time to act and put the animal out of its misery.

The lion had finally slowed down to where Stellan could try his experiment. Days earlier he had crafted a special dart, one filled with a potion he hoped would not only kill the diseased animal, but also disintegrate it entirely. The ingredients were not easy to come by, and their synthesis had been highly complex. However, if this worked, those long, hard hours would be more than acceptable. This alternative held far more appeal than a fire, which could lead to discovery. He eagerly awaited the results.

Stellan crept forward; the beast could not outrun him now. Yet caution would still be prudent, for the mutated animal could turn against him at any moment. He had one chance and one chance only to make this work. Slowly, he removed a glass vial from his side pouch. He poured its contents into a small dart. At the sound, the mountain lion’s head turned to him, a silent wail behind its eyes. Affixing the dart to a small mechanical launcher, Stellan slowly took aim.

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Stellan whipped around. Four sinister horsemen stood before him. The mountain lion uttered a weak snarl and then slumped to the ground. Stellan hid the launcher in the folds of his cape. It was too late. His window had closed. Through gritted teeth, he spoke. “What do you want, Alucard?”

The lead rider was an older man with platinum-gray hair. Neatly combed, it fell to his shoulders. Haughty features like those of an eagle looked down upon Stellan with amusement.

“How devastating.” He raised a hand to his chest in mock grief. “I would have thought your words would be kinder for your estranged uncle. I’ve missed you, boy.” Alucard’s harsh tone belied his words. He signaled, and the other men grouped their horses around Stellan, blocking him from the beleaguered animal.

Alucard inched his own steed closer. Stellan felt like slicing daggers through his uncle’s patronizing expression. He envisioned the blood soaring out into a hundred rainbow-like arcs. No, make that two hundred. He deliberately locked his face into a stone-hard expression, a frequent habit because he often felt so angry. The unexpected visit from his kinsfolk only stoked his ire more. You will get nothing from me, he thought.

Alucard assumed a bored look. “What we want is what doesn’t belong to you.” He gestured lazily to his men.

Stellan watched as the other riders unfolded a sturdy wooden cage. They proceeded to load the mountain lion into it, being quite careful to avoid its abnormal parts.

Stellan tried to hide his confusion. Why were they collecting it? “That doesn’t belong to anybody,” he said, jutting his chin up in defiance. “It’s merely a sick wild animal.”

“Wrong!” Alucard lunged forward and hit Stellan across the cheek. His next statement sounded more like a hiss. “It belongs to the Black Mage. And he’s livid about your continued interference.”

The blow stung, but Stellan had endured worse. Breathe. Breathe, and don’t say a word. Though prudence might save his life, he couldn’t resist a retaliatory barb. “Aren’t you rather close to Leopold’s kingdom? I hear Aldebaran swordsmen enjoy smiting barbaric warlocks like you.”

Alucard glowered, but he refused to take the bait. “Our business takes us wherever His Highness desires.” His gaze took on a distant look. “Aldebaran and its guileless yet hateful citizens will soon acquaint themselves with the true meaning of fear.” His eyes closed as if in rapture. “The storm is gathering.”

The new development made Stellan suspicious. “Enough riddles. What do you mean?”

An ominous smile fell over Alucard’s face, one masking answers Stellan desperately wanted to uncover. Why have you been following me? Why now, after so many years of silence?

“We’re finished here,” said one of the men.

Alucard nodded slowly and regarded his nephew with a stern expression. “If we find you interfering like this again, it will mean your life. I don’t care who your father is. Oh, and here.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a small gray sack. It landed at Stellan’s feet and something metallic clinked inside. “Something for your trouble.” Alucard snickered. “I know times have been rough.”

Stellan remained still, sullen and resolute, avoiding their gazes.

In the background, he heard one of the men whisper, “Look at the fool! He’s waiting for us to leave so he can pick up the money.” Raucous laughter followed.

The men hooked the cage to one of the horses and signaled the animals to ride. A few jeers floated back in the air, followed by even more riotous laughter. Eventually, it faded. All around him, the wood creatures resumed their light chatter. They too seemed to take great delight in the impoverished man before them. Stellan rammed a fist against the nearest tree. Damn you all, then!

His scalp tingled. Looking around, he spotted a hooded figure astride a horse many yards distant, peeking at him from among the trees. The rider wore a lavender cape–a woman’s raiment. His wary gaze followed her for a few moments, but he quickly tired of the game.

“Be gone, sister,” he muttered. He watched until she, too, retreated.

Then, and only then, did he pick up the bag of coins. It wasn’t much, but despite Alucard’s arrogant ways, his uncle was right–he did need the money. His food stores were hideously low. Even his scullery maid had complained there was only a finite number of ways one could cook potatoes, and no doubt she had tried them all numerous times over the past few months.

But what else could he do? There were more important issues at stake here than receiving a full-course meal every night.

Stellan pondered the recent encounter as he walked to his horse. Alucard had just threatened his life. How serious was he? Stellan’s ties with his blood relatives had been estranged, to put it mildly, since that dread event so long ago.

But his uncle had never openly threatened him with death before. And what did his parting words mean? Aldebaran and fear, along with something about a gathering storm? Surely his “kin”–how the word left a sour taste in his mouth–would not be foolish enough to wage war on Aldebaran. They would be slaughtered, having neither the numbers nor strategy to face down King Leopold’s military might. Alucard knew this fact, otherwise he would have led an attack long ago.

Stellan shook his head. The sorcerers of the Western Wastes had a long history of infighting. They would never successfully unite. He had learned one thing from the confrontation with his uncle, though, gaining confirmation of a suspicion he’d harbored for years now.

Their Pestilence was spreading.

“Pestilence” was his name for the virulent plague that had sickened the mountain lion, along with numerous other beasts of the forest. This included, he now knew, the bear that had attacked Lionel. It also explained the monstrosity at the Elysian River. To his knowledge, only animals had been infected so far, but how long would it remain that way? How susceptible were people? Alucard’s newfound confidence about the whole thing didn’t sit well with him at all.

Stellan came to an uneasy realization–he may have to forego isolation and make formal contact with King Leopold to warn him of the danger. How much assistance should he offer? After all, the affected creatures tended to hide in dark and isolated places such as Dungeon Forest. But recently the tide had shifted. Aldebaran royalty had been exposed. What, he wondered, had Lionel and the others reported to the King? Stellan frowned. Everything, most likely, down to his wolf’s furry tail.

If Stellan himself reported these new developments, would the King believe him? Would he even allow Stellan to enter his halls? But most importantly, should Stellan even care about Aldebaran considering the kingdom’s long-standing prejudice and hatred of those who practiced the Arts? Questions, so many questions.

He smiled wryly while mounting his horse. I’m sure they would think it some kind of trick or blackmail scheme. You’re a rascal, a fiend–even by the standards of your own clan. No, it probably wasn’t worth the effort.

These thoughts rebounded in his head, but instead of heading home, Stellan made for his neighbor’s border. Perhaps his brush with the mystery woman at the Elysian River had something to do with it. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, sunset was hours away. He still had time for another patrol. Stellan spurred on his stallion and bolted out of the forest.

* * * *

An upsurge of land overlooked the large meadow, one of many in Aldebaran’s hunting ground. It swelled high into the air like a wave perpetually cresting and offered an excellent vantage point of the surrounding area. As luck–or Stellan’s careful planning–would have it, he came to this hill on the last day of the month.

He gazed upon the spot where Lionel had been attacked two months earlier. Usually he would keep to the borders of his own land while scouting for Pestilence victims, but occasionally he slipped past Aldebaran’s perimeter guards. It was a necessary risk, because one too many times during the past year had found him tracking infected animals across its lines–creatures that knew no borders. Most he had destroyed, but a few had escaped, disappearing into the lush lands or populated areas where he could not follow.

Stellan feared such failures would come back to haunt him. So many people live there!

Staring out across the plain, he idly watched several horsemen crisscross the ground in an attempt to corner a pack of angry boars. A few already lay pierced with arrows, awaiting a fire to blacken their hides and tease out the succulent juices.

Stellan’s mouth watered. These Aldebaran royalty certainly knew how to feast. But how long until they became aware of his presence? He withdrew an arrow and cocked it against his bow. His keen eyes narrowed as he aimed for the center of the pack.

Fwip! The bow twanged pleasantly as he released the arrow. It soared straight down to the meadow, carried aloft even faster by the southeast wind. Stellan watched in satisfaction as one of the larger boars suddenly reared up and fell back.

That did the trick. A number of confused riders below turned about to scan the surrounding land. They then turned in unison to the hilltop. No doubt, he had been spotted. One of them broke away, galloping toward Stellan’s vantage point. A second rider soon followed, then a third.

Stellan waited patiently for their arrival. Hooves pounded closer and closer. A blond mane of hair appeared over the crest, followed by a rider clothed in maroon and green hunting gear.

“Well met, my friend!” Lionel reared his horse a few feet shy of Stellan’s mount. The animals greeted each other with snorts and stamping hooves. “I was wondering when we would see you again.” The duke flexed his biceps, a wide grin plastered on his face. “See here, my arm is just like new!” Then he reached out to clasp Stellan’s arm.

Stellan noted his companions, however, were not as jovial. Hm, I wonder why. Edward nodded curtly, letting his scowl speak for him. The third rider watched him guardedly.

Stellan bowed his head courteously to each in return however, and then gave Lionel his full attention. “I fear this call isn’t entirely social. I’ve come to warn you of something, Lionel. We need to talk. Now.”

Lionel’s grin faltered. “Of course! But not over an empty stomach. Why even the very thought is abominable! Come finish the hunt with us, and then you can speak of your warning.”

Stellan hesitated, and then nodded. A few more minutes could hardly make any difference, and the thought of another hearty meal did sound enticing. It was settled then. He let them think Edward’s cutting glance had gone unnoticed as he followed the men down to the meadow.

Despise me if you must, but my news could very well change the course of your lives.

* * * *

Shortly after sunset, the hunters sat around a great fire. Most of them clustered about Stellan and Lionel. Two of the swine had been cooked and eaten, and now curls of pungent smoke rose from assorted pipes. A moment of silence greeted the sorcerer after he shared what he thought they should know about the growing threat of Pestilence. Alucard’s interest in the matter would remain secret for the time being.

Lionel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So you’re saying it’s mostly wild animals that have been infected. You’re not aware of any domestics being at risk?”

Stellan shrugged. “That depends on how much contact there’s been between the two. If you haven’t had any reports from your farmers, then count yourselves lucky. I’m only saying the risk is there.”

Lionel nodded. “Well, the monstrosity that nearly killed me should be enough to convince anybody.”

“I don’t think that’s quite the case,” Edward said.

Lionel cocked his head. “Oh, you don’t, eh?”

Stellan looked at the other men gathered around him. Each held Edward’s doubting gaze. “Aldebaran has been fortunate,” he murmured. “Pestilence has stalked my land for many years and has made its way north into Falcon Heights. If more forceful measures aren’t taken soon, the good citizens of your kingdom could become exposed.” He paused for a moment, measuring his next words for maximum effect. “There’s absolutely no cure–other than death.”

Edward snorted. “And I suppose you have the defense we require hidden up your warlock’s sleeve–for a price! Did I guess correctly, Sir Swindler?”

“Cousin!” Lionel hissed. “He’s trying to help us. How dare you insult him!”

“That’s only your opinion,” Edward said. He looked at Stellan. “Have I insulted you?”

Stellan shook his head. He’d heard much worse.

“There, you see?” Edward sniffed. “I’m only being cautious. I’m sure Prince Stellan would understand our misgivings. His family is hardly…reputable.”

Stellan eased himself into a standing position. “I’m just a messenger,” he told the group. “What you do with the information is none of my concern. If you wish to sign a death warrant, so be it.” He lifted a hand in a farewell gesture. “Thanks again for the meal.”

Stellan had almost reached his horse when someone grabbed his arm. He whirled around, simultaneously withdrawing a ready knife.

“It’s only me!” Lionel said with a nervous laugh. “You’re not really a people person, are you?”

Stellan sheathed his blade. “Not really.”

“Well, listen,” Lionel continued. “I have just the cure! One of the King’s daughters is getting married a month hence, at sundown on the twenty-seventh day. Guests will be plentiful, and everyone’s been dying to learn about my heroic rescuer. If you want, I can try and get you an audience with the King, my uncle. I’m sure he’d be most interested in your findings.”

Stellan mounted his horse. He glanced over a few yards to Edward, who fumed darkly behind his cousin. Clearly, he had overheard the invitation. He looked down into Lionel’s expectant face. “I don’t know. Somehow I don’t sense my message–or myself, for that matter–being very welcome there.”

“Oh, nonsense, it’ll be fun!” Lionel cuffed him playfully. “I guarantee the most beautiful selection of ladies you’ve ever laid eyes on. Luscious…and looking.”

Stellan nearly gave in to a smile at the exaggeratedly fervent expression on the Duke’s face. Then he glanced at Edward once again, and the good feeling faded. “You’re very kind, Lionel, but I still don’t believe it to be a sound idea. Good night.”

Before Lionel could protest, he galloped away. He dove deeply into the night and made for home.

While navigating a path through Dungeon Forest, he ruminated about the day’s events. What was surely worse than the Pestilence threat he had encountered was the Pestilence threat unseen. How many more victims lurked in the shadows, watching and waiting to attack? How many more suffered violent mutations of form and mind, and how many yet would there be? More importantly, what hand did Alucard play in all of it?

“Aldebaran and its guileless, yet hateful citizens will soon acquaint themselves with the meaning of fear.”

A cold wave of morbid dread plucked at his nerves. It grew heavy and more pronounced, like the frozen precipitation that hallmarked the entrance to his kingdom. At the far side of Dungeon Forest, Stellan drew his cape about him tightly. He wound a dark, thick scarf around his head, revealing only his eyes, and plunged ahead. As usual, snow coated both him and his horse within minutes. No matter how many times he went through this, it was impossible to adjust. Only minutes ago Stellan had been perspiring against the heat and long ride; now an invasive chill had wormed its way down to his very bones.

He pulled his cape even tighter about him and sped onward. After a while, he stopped to cover his horse with a blanket, for even it could not withstand unguarded against the bitter cold for long. Stellan glanced skyward. A deep breath told him it was only a snowfall, not another storm. Good. He’d make decent time.

Stellan began to feel more secure, but also angrier. Over the years, his clan had mostly left him alone, save for a spy or two. But Alucard’s appearance made him suspect the game had changed. Either they wanted something from him, or they wanted to dispose of him.

He wondered if he should attempt a magickal barrier, but given his lack of training, such a defensive maneuver would be mere child’s play for the likes of his uncle. No, it was best to forget the whole idea. However, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something now threatened his solitary life. If so, this would be a change he both feared and welcomed simultaneously.

The thought prompted him to spur his steed on faster as they traversed the snowy plains. Only he and his animal companions knew the blighted terrain so well they could navigate it without the aid of torch or marker. His thoughts drifted to Lionel’s invitation. It was tempting. If he attended the wedding and spoke with Leopold, perhaps he’d gain entrance to Aldebaran for further exploration. How else would one such as himself obtain an audience with the King? But with the hope of contact came the risk of discovery, of derision, of rejection.

There was one positive note in favor of attending. Nothing would goad Alucard and his father more than him taking up with his virtuous neighbor, especially one whose citizens were so virulent in their blind prejudice against warlocks. Stellan still bristled at the thought, but how could he possibly measure his pride against the potential death of thousands?

Long ago, he had made himself a pledge to protect the Five Lands from Pestilence after learning how easily familial ties could be severed. The pledge tortured him because it went against everything he had been taught as a child–for he had not been taught to care.

Yet somehow he did. Stellan was sure that path would lead to his undoing, but neither could he stop from taking it.

Well, he thought. There it is, then… The answer. Stellan wasted no time upon his return to Vandeborg. After stabling his horse for a hard-earned rest, he sought out the one person in his kingdom who possessed the knowledge to help him succeed in his new mission. Finding his scullery maid at work by the kitchen hearth, he strode up to her with a newfound urgency.

“Teach me how to dance,” Stellan commanded.