Chapter 3

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For both Celeste and Latham, the next two weeks passed in a frantic routine of monotonous activities. To identify the most influential figures among the factions struggling for power, to compile a dossier on them, to determine the range of interests. To attract the attention, using their dual position of the leaders of the risen and the officers of the Taleya intelligence. Set a time to meet, negotiate, find common ground, promise support with money, information, or weapons. Cumbersome, boring, necessary. The number of human reactions is limited: with at least half a century of experience behind you, it's easy to know what your opponent is really after.

The picture was quite simple and optimistic. The Bardi nobles (though what nobles are they? The descendants of fortunate chieftains, at best related by blood to the middle classes of the nobility of neighboring Taleya: no decent education, no ancestral gift, no decent manners) were not yet at war with each other, but they were already actively recruiting mercenaries. The final battle was prevented by the presence of a formal ruler. The old childless Prince Foch, though he had lost much of his health and influence, still possessed no small amount of military resources.

He could, if necessary, cause a lot of trouble to over-active subjects, if only by proclaiming an official heir. So far, however, he had not done so, thereby maintaining a semblance of peace and forcing the pretenders to the crown to seek allies in a variety of places. Celesta has already met with one and has been pleased with the negotiations. If Messe fulfills at least half of the commitments he has made, the risen' position in the country will be greatly strengthened, and a normal, full-fledged community can be established here. This Hatsu looks like a promising candidate for the role of its head, but he should appoint someone of their own to assist him...

At the same time, logic demanded not to put all the eggs in one basket. Count Messe was certainly a charismatic leader and talented ruler, but the other candidates for the throne also had a good chance of winning. At least two should have been counted as potential winners. One was too tightly bound to the Fire Temple, but the other had never shown much religious fervor, and he must be contacted. Just talk to him, for starters. Some actions in this direction have been taken, but so far the retinue is not very eager to make contact.

Risen's musings were interrupted by a familiar feeling, like a light touch on the back of her head. At least, that's how she always perceived other people's calls. Celesta became slightly alarmed. As she rose from her chair, she involuntarily thought that Medea - and she recognized her friend's inherent pattern of thought - would not try to talk to her without an absolute necessity. Magic allowed communication over long distances, but rituals required a great expenditure of power, making it far easier, cheaper, and more reliable to send a pigeon or a messenger with a letter. The conversation through mirrors was resorted to in special, urgent cases.

In fact, a mirror was not necessary to convey thoughts. Just a smooth, shiny surface made it easier to focus, tune in, concentrate on the right course of action. That was why even Celesta, who justifiably considered herself one of the best in the field of work with consciousness, preferred to use tools to make her life easier. All the more so now, after the showy massacre of Irhaim, which had cost her a great deal of effort. After all, the late mage was extremely gifted. It was a pity...

The undead took a small mirror from the chest, insanely expensive by today's standards, put it on the table, looked into the eyes of her reflection, and relaxed. At the same moment, the message Medea sent from Taleya entered her consciousness. There was no talking, no greetings, no apologies for untimely disturbance - just the bare, pure information that made Celesta freeze in dead stillness. It took her ten minutes to appreciate the unpleasant news. Then the vampiress put the mirror away and leaned back in her chair.

"Latham." The faithful assistant and bodyguard appeared almost immediately. He was sitting on the first floor, but he reacted instantly to his mistress' voice. "Go to Hatsu, apologize on my behalf, and tell him we have to leave. To Lascaris. I've had word from there that some outsiders have come into the city, killed Zarah, and seriously wounded Sattar. There seem to be three strangers. We can't stay."

Latham pondered, assessing the news.

"Perhaps Hatsu shouldn't know the details?"

"No. Let him see that I am ready to protect my servants."

What bad timing. Her mission in the mountains is far from over, the goals of the trip have not been achieved. But nothing can be done - it is impossible not to go. If this information is correct, then the outsiders from the steppe are too strong and practically terrorize the fourth largest city in the kingdom. They must be stopped before fear and panic spread throughout the country.

The danger of an all-out raid hadn't disturbed the risen for a long time, but now some would gladly seize the opportunity to rock the situation. Besides, there are a dozen potential risen among the undead who want to get rid of the overly rigid grip of Mistress Taleya. Idiots. They do not understand that people are not so much afraid of them as they are tolerant, and if they decide to destroy them, they will destroy them. Hiding, sitting in the dungeons is not an option. Therefore she must constantly prove her power, assert her right to power and look for an opportunity to get rid of proud blind men one by one, gently and without attracting attention. Unfortunately, it is not possible to solve the problem all at once and cardinally.

So, I'll have to visit Messe tomorrow, tell him about the change of plans and assure him once again of my support. It's easier with Hatsu - he's impressed enough by the death of the blacksmith who interfered with him and is dealing with the "gifted" fanatics. His loyalty is already at a sufficient level. I wish, of course, he had more, but alas. I'll have to make do with what I have.

The journey to the border of Lascaris will take about a week. Perhaps the vampires that attacked the city will be destroyed during that time, though much depends on luck and the quickness of people's reactions. There are no great temples that specialize in the extermination of the undead in Lascaris, there are few good mages, and there is an extensive network of caves nearby that are easy to hide from the sun. Outsiders have a chance. Celesta would prefer to eliminate the threat herself, thus proving that she is in control and still the strongest. In times like these, one must seize every opportunity to strengthen one's position. Besides, her servant had been killed. That should not be tolerated.

Bardi stood at the crossroads of three important roads and therefore controlled them. The first road, from Taleya to Shaar, was an old structure passing through three mountain principalities and attracted the particular attention of military thinkers. For it allowed, in addition to controlling the states of the Farisian Range, to penetrate into the western regions of the principality of Lanak, which had recently been rapidly becoming the second power of the region. The second road led to the Desio mines and allowed us to decide which country would have no problem with the availability of silver. Considering that the metal was ideally suited to killing the beasts that proliferated everywhere, and thus was considered a strategic resource - and in practice, it was - any reasonable ruler was eager to have it at their disposal. Finally, merchants from Lascaris, one of the few gateways to the west for a hundred years, came regularly to Bardi.

The clan of Lash managed to benefit from the unexpected gift of Irrhan the First. Lascaris was originally built as a frontier fortress, but thanks to the wisdom and insight of its lords, it became a real jewel of the kingdom. Traders made hundreds of deals every day here, exchanging goods brought from the Good Sea coast for horses brought from the steppe, or exchanging swords for rare and therefore valuable Seven Rivers carpets for ones forged in Desio. From here, the handicrafts of numerous artisans were spread all over the world, bringing fame and money to their creators, and duties, influence, and power to the rulers of the city. A strong garrison monitored the safety of the trade, aided in no small measure by a commission of overseers, in effect the duke's internal intelligence service. Priests of various cults built temples to their gods here, mercenaries and mere adventurers flocked here, and books on forbidden magic and mind-altering herbs were sold under the table in the markets.

It took Celesta six days to reach Lascaris. Normally the journey would take much longer, but this time the Mistress ordered no mercy on the horses and ruthlessly drove several pairs of animals, changing the lives of beautiful and loyal creatures for precious time. Horses that do not fear the undead are difficult to raise, but she did not regret her decision: her senses told her she had done the right thing.

The city was shrouded in fear. As she drove by, Celesta could taste the acrid fumes of humans, hear the pounding of people's hearts as they hurried home, see their frightened thoughts. The guards at the gate looked depressed, despite the sunny day, and looked longingly after the departing wagons.

What had happened here? How could just three ghouls scare so many people? Usually, the authorities paid little attention to the corpses of the urban poor, beggars, members of small neighborhood gangs, and another rabble, believing that since ghouls did the work of the guards, they were even useful in some ways. Problems arose when the number of victims became unjustifiably large, or when someone influential died. A rich merchant, a nobleman's daughter from the duke's retinue... That's when the repressive apparatus deployed its full force.

She pulled aside the heavy curtains, looking out the window. The thick, dark veil should protect her from the searing sun, but even if a few rays slipped through, it wouldn't be too bad. She can survive a sun kiss or two. The strength of a risen is directly related to age; the oldest undead of Taleya was capable of more than their younger counterparts. Unlike Latham, now lying in a cloaked box beneath her feet, Celesta could move about during the day without much strain and retained her sane mind. However, everything had to be paid for, and in the evening she was sure to go out hunting.

"Gracious," she called out with a snap of her fingers to the poorly dressed citizen standing against the wall. "This is my first time in your city. Where can I stay here?"

"There's no inn better than the Bowl and Mirror, my lady," said the ragamuffin. "Go straight down the street, when you get to the second square, there you will see it."

"Here," Celesta tossed in a small coin.

The check-in of a noblewoman from a poor but ancient family, and her entourage to the best hotel in the city passed without fuss. They arrived, chose their rooms, brought their luggage - including Latham's box - ordered the bathtub to be filled, and got a little fussy. Celesta played the part of a young girl on her way to visit relatives, intent on staying in the big city for three days out of curiosity. The role was familiar, long studied, and had always worked. And now the maid, who had been assigned to help her, was chatting away, taking advantage of the opportunity to tell the provincial girl the eerie news:

"Every night someone gets killed. The priests have performed rituals, the guards have searched the city, even wizards have conjured up something, but to no avail. There were a lot of mercenaries in the city - horrible! The ghouls have been raging ever since those merchants were slaughtered."

"What merchants?"

"Well, the ones who brought the ghouls," the maid looked round-eyed. "The guards heard something and came to search the caravan. They began to open the wagons, and in three of them - the coffins are hidden! And in them lie ghouls. They killed the soldiers, ripped their heads off, and hid in the caves. Now they come out every night and drink people's blood."

The last phrase the girl uttered quietly and with real, unadulterated fear. Her emotions were dominated by fright and mild doom, and Celesta even felt pity for the mortal, and, after drinking her blood, went beyond the usual mental clouding. A little suggestion, backed by a coin, and the maid left contentedly, not worrying about how to survive tonight. Once she was alone, the undead wrapped herself in her warm robe and laid out her ammunition, waiting for the night to fall. An invitation to visit the palace, if any, she decided to ignore. Priorities were different now. One person she would not refuse to talk to was the representative of the Secret Guard, who was responsible for organizing the raid. The picture was clear in general terms, but no intruders could be caught without details.

There are three of them. Each is old and strong enough to walk in the daytime and endure the sunrays for as long as it takes to find shelter. The combined efforts of the mages and priests to find the ghouls have yielded no results, and that is already frightening. Sattar did the right thing when he ordered the three younger risen, who belonged to his - after Zar's death - community, to leave for other cities. They were no adversaries to outsiders, and Celesta did not like to send her own to certain death. Though she had to in three hundred years.

The young noblewoman, who had settled in the hotel, was very active. Before nightfall, she was visited by a tailor, a shoemaker, a jewelry merchant, several servants in the livery of various noble families, a priest, and a small official from the town government. The presence of the latter was explained by the lady's desire to obtain some documents on the land litigation conducted by her parents. Such activity, undoubtedly, was admired by the staff of "Bowl and Mirror", but did not surprise anybody - heirs of noble families were accustomed to family matters early.

Thus, by the evening Celesta had managed to talk to the messengers of the local branch of the Secret Guard and a couple of representatives of the city's significant factions. Not counting her informants, of course. The picture was a strange one. The risen did not see the purpose of the actions - she honestly did not understand the behavior of the "visitors". Why act so demonstratively violent? Do they want to intimidate the townspeople? The rich and noble elite live in homes blessed by the signs, which is not easy to penetrate without preparation. Massacres in poorer quarters make little sense. Already the city is awash with bands of temple guards, mercenary undead hunters, Academy bloodhounds, and armed vassals of aristocrats. And every day there are more of them.

Sooner or later the aliens will be caught in the densely woven web, their capture a matter of time and money. Against them plays the system, already faced with ghouls rebels against the established order, and the factor of alien territory, which deprived them of the support of mortals. No amount of experience or vampire strength will save them. One wonders how old they are. Zar was an old fighter, his assassins at least equal to him. At least two centuries, then.

The information received speaks of three men. Three old risen, who, with unclear motives, had come to a foreign land, attacked Celesta's servants and set their ways in motion. She made a mental note to find out what drove them from their homes. The fate of the strangers was sealed, but the causes and circumstances of the incident had to be determined.

Celesta, in addition to the resources provided by the Secret Guards, had her own network at her disposal, which provided fairly accurate information about the latest attacks. As might be expected, most of the attacks had been in the northern quarters, though in the past three nights bodies had been found in the northwest as well. Are the local thugs masking their gang warfare? It is unlikely: the investigators are professional enough, and a human being cannot tear off the head of a kinsman. Consequently, we must look there, trying if possible not to clash with the detachments of guards and other hunters. She, along with Latham and Sattar, was not afraid of a fight. Though there was no reason to relax.

As night fell, the nobles' quarters came alive: even the rampages of the ghouls hadn't forced the aristocrats to change their way of life. It was just that now the stretcher-bearers were accompanied not by three or five etiquette warriors, but by whole squads armed with silver-plated weapons. Visiting hours began around nine o'clock, with guests not returning until just before morning. A young noblewoman who had only just arrived in town today also left. Apparently, she was in a hurry because she did not want to rest from the road and immediately went to her acquaintances. She didn't take many warriors with her...

Celesta could have taken no warriors at all, but she chose to be on the safe side. She had a general idea of the area of the next attack, and she wanted to get there safely. Two travelers, a man, and a woman could be checked by any patrol. Palanquins with a coat of arms and a horse escort are rarely stopped. So he and Latham drove comfortably to the place where they planned to begin their search. There the undead let her mortal servants go and waited.

The taste of fear is not a beautiful poetic metaphor. It is more than real. The smell of adrenaline released into the bloodstream, the smell of acrid sweat soaking the clothes. The hunters who live in the night feel it very well, it attracts them from afar, calls them to feast...

Now that smell was disturbing.

Celesta thought irritably that the people in their shacks could have been less fearful. No one was stopping them from leaving town for a while, or from making sure they fortified their homes against the undead beforehand. But, as always, they only got worried when trouble loomed large on their doorstep. As a result, the prices of the temple priests and healers skyrocketed, the few amulets of the Academy masters were swept from the shelves, and their place was taken by various articles of numerous charlatans. The cheaters had reaped a bountiful harvest in the past month.

She grinned contemptuously at the signs scrawled on the wall, supposedly intended to protect the inhabitants from the coming of evil. It's hard to tell if they have a positive effect. There are definitely negative ones. Headaches, bad dreams, sour milk, and other minor nuisances this combination of runes will certainly provide. Magic in the modern world has almost lost its former power, but this does not mean that it has disappeared altogether. And in the experienced hands, it was a formidable weapon. That's right - in the experienced hands!

Another squad of guards strode past. Celesta stepped out of the shadows, sniffed the air, trying to detect the distinctive sour smell of her kin, and checked her amulets. The search net, spread out by local wizards, had shown no sign of outsiders so far, which was unsettling. At the very least, background marks should show up. The top Taleyan risen could hide from the search completely, and even the younger ones could cover, but first, they had access to the Academy materials, and second, even they needed time to prepare the ritual. At least a couple of nights. Or did the intruders have an artifact like the one Hustin had invented? Which he still had not managed to produce, despite a fully elaborated theory.

At least they have the hunting area figured out. It remains to patrol it and hope for luck.

There was a muffled rumbling in the distance to where Latham was walking. Celesta listened more closely, wondering if she should come closer. The bodyguard would be able to call her for help, and there was no shortage of loud noises at night. Let him see if he should first... The next second Celesta found herself running.

Her instinct for danger, which had never failed her before, snapped again before the signal from Latham informed her of the threat. No exchange of thoughts, just a blob of emotion, a call for help. Her servant, one of the kingdom's strongest risen had come upon someone he couldn't handle on his own. Celesta had no doubt - they had found the target.

The risen' fights are short-lived, as they always are if the professionals are fighting. The men in a beerhouse can maul each other for half an hour, but the experienced do not make unnecessary movements and do not waste time. Exceptions are rare and in most cases are caused by external reasons. A desire to show off in front of a lady, or to mock the enemy, for example. Latham's prowess was nurtured by the best masters during his human lifetime, honed in duels of honor and on the battlefield, and perfected after becoming undead. But even his brilliant abilities succumbed to the combined might of three older, more experienced undead. He was saved by the curiosity of the outsiders and their desire to find out where this dangerous new enemy had come from.

Celesta was glad in passing that she didn't have to be careful. At least one of the attackers she would be able to capture, and relatively intact, that is, fit for interrogation. So there was no need to be coy.

Barely twenty seconds had passed since instinct had driven her to the aid of her bodyguard. The fight was in a small square, more like a three-street intersection, and Latham was still alive. The vampiress had just a moment to assess the situation. Closer to her stood a short, stout ghoul, watching his two brethren play and controlling the situation at the same time. He sensed Celesta's appearance, swung to the side in time to avoid the blow, but he could no longer warn his comrades-in-arms. There was not enough time. Mistress of Taleya sped past, snarling with anger and frustration at herself, and she lunged forward again, not wanting to interrupt the attack. This time the plan succeeded. The next foe was not as nimble, or simply less experienced. His blade was still coming up when the girl glided down, chopping his leg - and up again, slashing her second short sword across the neck. The stranger's head hung on a few flaps of skin, but the body was still standing, unable to comprehend the arrival of the second, final death.

With a single easy, almost dancing movement, Celesta found herself next to a third opponent. This one was waiting to attack. The stranger had abandoned the wounded Latham - she could see that his right hand was missing and his right eye was bloodshot - to face the real threat. And there was still the first one behind her, perfectly intact and about to attack. The risen stepped forward, delivering an oblique blow from the right to the top, expectantly meeting resistance and pulling the sword slightly toward her, preventing her from jamming it into a vise. At the same time, she spun on her left leg, cutting across her torso with the blade in her left hand through inertia. The man had no time to react, and Celesta felt with triumph the faint resistance of the cut flesh. Continuing to move, she crouched slightly and delivered a precise jab to the knee, expecting to shatter the bone and repeat the successful blow with the second opponent.

The trained body suddenly jerked to the side, rolling away from the attack. An attack of magic, unanticipated. A blob of dark cherry flame sprayed out from where the risen had been a moment ago. It seemed that Latham would have to flee on his own. She sprang to her feet, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the fighters, who were dancing in a beautiful, horrific dance. All her attention was now focused on the talented runt. To use fire in combat... Against the undead would be fine. How is he not afraid?

"What do you say, beauty?" A stream of fire slid between the enemy's hands. "Who are you?"

He spoke with a Western accent, a bit of a mart. The blob of flame suddenly lunged forward, forcing Celesta to take a step to the right. Her face burned with heat. A warm lump in her stomach reacted to the threat, involuntarily sending a faint current of power. The risen flipped her sword to her left hand.

"You shouldn't have come here." She shook her hand, kneading her fingers. A silly habit, pointless. "There are different laws here."

"It's not for me!"

The short man lunged forward, literally pushing the ball of fire, which had grown to a meter in diameter, in front of him. This time the vampiress didn't back down. She drew an intricate pattern sharply and quickly with her free hand, at the same time stepping slightly toward him. Her adversary stood up, pressing against an invisible barrier, forcefully trying to squeeze through the suddenly thickened air. His face was covered in tiny dots of blood, his fangs elongated.

"Not bad," Celesta admitted. The confrontation wasn't easy for her either, the flames at arm's length sucked her strength out. "You are able to do something. But not enough against me!"

She concentrated, reinforced her improvised shield, and with her bare will, she pressed down on her opponent. The flame user flew backward as if he'd received a tremendous jolt. The house whose back hit the wall shuddered, plaster and thatch from the roof crumbled to the ground. But the risen's spine was not broken, he did not lose consciousness, and therefore, if Celesta had let him, he could have stood up and continued the fight.

She didn't.

Obedient to the short strokes of the vampire's hand, the invisible blades sliced through the runt's body three times. Cutting off his legs and both arms. The final touch was a light poke to the forehead that rendered the stranger unconscious. Only then did Celesta relax a little and look around.

Latham stood, leaning on his sword. He didn't look too good, but he was still standing. She did not doubt his victory, but nevertheless, she felt it necessary to approach him and assess how badly his bodyguard was wounded.

As she approached, the former aristocrat straightened up and hid the stump of his arm behind his back.

"I'm sorry, Messena. He turned out to be too strong."

Celesta looked in passing at the chopped-up corpse of the last enemy.

"Worries not. We have their leader." She listened to the stomping feet of the guards running toward the noise, the anxious whistles of the patrols. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."

Tonight had been a stormy night, and they'd spent a lot of energy. Ignoring the frightened sniffles of the mortals behind the flimsy walls of the houses was becoming more and more difficult as the demon insisted on quenching its thirst. Celesta was surprised to find herself staggering. A little more and she and Latham would not be able to restrain their hunger. They must go.

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