A New Power Rising
“No! What are you doing?” Myra cried and lunged forward, but Armida easily pushed her down, yanking the gun out of her hand.
“Armida,” Tristan uttered, his hushed voice carrying easily over the pit. He stared at Armida, his eyes wide and disbelieving.
“Sorry, sweetie pie.” Armida’s voice was soft and strained. She cut the second rope. “This world is not big enough for both of us.”
“Armida, please! Don’t!” Myra cried and grabbed the vampire’s hand, unable to stop her from cutting the last rope. She watched in horror as the bridge collapsed over the pit, in a flurry of wood and ropes. “He can’t cross. They will kill him! He will die!”
“Yes, that is the idea,” Armida said.
“Please, give me back my gun.” Myra clutched Armida’s arm. “Let me help him.”
“You can no longer help him,” Armida said, her voice strangely sad. “I suggest you come to terms with this and stop fighting.”
Come to terms with this? But how, when Tristan was over there, on the other side, fighting numerous vampires all alone with no chance to succeed, and she was helpless to intervene?
Myra glared at Armida, teary-eyed. “You are a bigger monster than them all!” She sobbed. “How could you do this? Tristan went out there to save you! How could you betray him?”
She looked back at the other side of the pit. Tristan was swinging his sword, beheading one enemy and wounding another with a single move. He reached out with his left arm, grabbed and pulled a nearby vampire, and sank his teeth into his victim’s throat, replenishing his strength from the other’s blood. Myra watched the scene, holding her breath and praying to whoever might be listening.
Tristan gave no sign of tiring as one enemy wave after another swarmed him. But then Yong raised his bow, and Myra screamed.
Tristan heard her warning and twisted around, just in time to evade an arrow in his chest. However, he was not fast enough, and the projectile made a deep cut across his upper arm.
This did nothing to break his deadly dance. He cut and slashed and pushed away everyone trying to attack him. And yet, he found no break to bind his wound, and he was losing blood. And blood meant strength. Blood meant life.
“I admit I have grown attached to Tristan,” Armida said. “But he is the price I needed to pay for what I wanted.”
“And what did you want?” Myra choked.
Armida smiled. “I wanted this beautiful night to last forever. I never wanted to go back underground, wandering this world like an outcast, like a refugee, instead of being its master as I should be.”
“You?” Myra snorted. “What have you ever done to deserve to be anyone’s master?”
Armida’s eyes were fixed on the other side, where Tristan was fighting for his life. “For starters, unlike the Prince, I actually wanted it.”
Tristan wavered on his feet, and Myra’s heart clenched. “The Prince wanted to rule, too.”
“Not in the way I did. He likes ruling and building his own world, but both the responsibility and the security it brings bore him to death. But I am not like that.” Armida stepped closer to the edge, staring at the raging battle. The clouds parted for the briefest of moments and, for a second, a single ray fell over Armida’s wine-red hair. A few hairs sizzled and burned, and the last drops of the dying rain fell on them, putting out the flames. Armida did not flinch.
“Power never bored me,” she said. “But I never truly had it. It was the Prince driving the car, and I was in the front seat, right next to him, giving him directions and advice. But I did not want that. I did not want to be the grey cardinal behind the curtains. I wanted to be in the driver’s seat, to hold the wheel in my own hands, to turn it any way I wanted, to step on the gas as firmly as I wanted. I wanted to rule, not through him, but in my own right.”
Myra felt tears burn at her eyes. She had always thought Vlad was the real monster, and Armida and Tristan had simply fallen under his influence, too weak-willed to choose their own path. “So, when the Prince decided to destroy the Wizard, you wanted to stop him?”
“More than that,” Armida said. “I wanted to take the throne for myself. When the Prince disclosed his plans to destroy the Wizard to me, I shared them with all the trusted allies I had built over the years. If it had been up to them, they would have taken him down immediately, but my power and influence were strong enough to prevent that. I struck a deal with them. I would tell them the exact plans for the Wizard’s destruction and allow them to not only prevent it, but also destroy the Resistance and Ila with one single stroke.”
Myra’s stomach twisted as she grasped the enormity of this treachery. How far back in time it must have gone, how many years it must have taken to plan it all—and to lay in wait until the time came? “And in return, they agreed to spare the Prince? Is that why so few attacked us?”
Armida frowned. “No one should have attacked him at all, but traitors are everywhere, even within my own ranks. Yes, the agreement was that they spare him and make me their queen. Of course, we were to put on some charade in front of the Prince—they would pretend to want to execute him for his treachery, but I would sway them with well-chosen words and diplomacy. In the end, they would not only pardon us but let me rule.”
“And you think the Prince would have fallen for that and agreed to rule as your consort?” Myra said, incredulous. “That’s ridiculous. He would have never believed that nonsense.”
“If he figured out the truth, it would have changed nothing,” Armida said calmly. “I would have put him in a dungeon where my warriors would be safe from him, and he would be safe from them. I love him, but I love ruling more.”
Myra’s eyes scanned the ground for discarded weapons. She could do nothing for Tristan, but perhaps she could still save herself. If Armida was giving a villain monologue, she surely meant to kill her. But perhaps Myra could reach the narrow gorge first and guard her position until the sun came out.
She looked back at Tristan. His movements were growing slow and sluggish, and he slipped and collapsed to his knees. A vampire used the moment to grab him and sink her teeth into his neck. He pushed her away, swinging his sword, and stood up, his feet taking a fighting stance.
“And how did Tristan fit into your plan?” Myra glared at Armida.
“He was another part of the deal. Everyone at court hates the poor sugar cube, and Yong has even more reasons to see him destroyed.”
Myra gave her a sharp look. “Why?”
“Seven years ago, a delivery arrived from the Mainland,” Armida said. “A supply of domesticated humans to extend our Farm. Among them were a young woman and her son. Through her, Yong learned that the boy was his descendant.”
“But not the mother?”
Armida shook her head. “The boy’s father had been Yong’s great-great-something-grandson. Of course, Yong drank the mother to the last drop, so that the boy would be only his. He petitioned the Prince to allow him to raise the child in the Palace, outside the Farm, and to groom him to become a vampire once he was of age. The Prince was not keen on creating more vampires—he had already decided he wanted to destroy the Wizard one day…”
“Which Yong also knew, thanks to you,” Myra snapped.
“He did, but he hid his knowledge well. In any case, the Prince feared that if he granted Yong’s request, many others would ask for the same. Still, he recognized that Yong was an important ally and did not wish to push him away. As a compromise, he declared the boy would grow up in the Farm. Once he turned fourteen, he would contribute his blood, just like every other human. If he was still alive at sixteen, the Prince would allow Yong to turn him.
“But all this time Yong had been playing games of his own—trying to capture humans and torture them for information instead of bringing them to the Prince as ordered. He never completely believed in my plan and wanted to have a backup. Tristan had been onto him for some time and wanted to teach him a lesson. Your capture was the last straw—if Tristan had not found you, Yong would have tortured and killed you.
“This year, the boy turned fifteen and was healthy. Few vampires chose to drink him at feasts, afraid to openly antagonize Yong. But then Countess Izumi came with a request. She said a flu epidemic had decreased their Farm’s population, and the Prince agreed to send her a supply of young men and women. He left the logistics to Tristan… and Tristan made sure Yong’s relative was included in the delivery.”
Myra frowned. “The Prince didn’t order it?”
“He knew nothing of it, and he would have never allowed it. He knew better than to make enemies over petty disagreements. And Tristan thought he could play these games of his, but they were all over his head. He never understood the basic principle—if you wish to play court games, you need to make allies. And he never tried. In the past years, he has done nothing but irritate everyone and be mean and condescending. Besides the Prince, he had no friends at court.”
Myra clenched her fists and turned her attention back to the fight. Yong fired two more arrows, and Tristan sidestepped them. His arm and neck were bleeding, and yet he was standing firmly on his feet, and his grip on the hilt of his sword was strong. With a powerful blow, he thrust his blade deep into a vampire’s stomach and then swung it upwards, splitting his enemy in two, from navel to head.
This drove him off-balance, and a short vampire jumped nimbly on his back, biting his shoulder. He tried to push his attacker away, but then Yong ran to him, grabbed his shoulders, and forcefully bit his neck. And then, dozens of vampires approached, creeping upon Tristan like ants. They bit at his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his legs, his stomach. Myra choked back tears as she realized what was happening.
They were eating him alive.
“No!” she yelled with such force that she felt the air ripped out of her lungs and stomach, tearing at her vocal cords. “Leave him alone! Tristan! Tristan, hold on! I am here. You’re not alone. I am right here!”
She was shaking now, sobbing uncontrollably. “Stop this. Armida, stop them! I know you can. The Prince will ask about Tristan once he wakes up. What will you tell him?”
“The truth,” Armida said. “That Tristan died tragically in battle. I will, of course, attribute his death to one of the fallen vampires—I would not want to send my beloved into a revenge spree.”
“You’re completely delusional,” Myra hissed through clenched teeth. “How do you still have the nerve to claim you love the Prince? If you truly loved him, you’d never hurt Tristan.”
“Why?” Armida raised an eyebrow, her face calm. “What is Tristan to him? A bad influence—that is what he is. I have talked to Callisto. She told me the Prince used to be a different person before he met Tristan. I would love to see him return to his former self.”
“A different person, you say?” Myra said, brushing her tears away. “But it’s the Prince that had already met Tristan who fell in love with you. What makes you think the pre-Tristan Vladimir would have looked at you twice?”
Armida’s emerald eyes blazed with angry fire. “Careful, girl. I want to repay you for choosing my side, but my patience has limits.”
Myra frowned. “You don’t mean to kill me? I know your secret. Surely you realize I won’t keep it from the Prince.”
“Kill you?” Armida said. “You are my blood sister. And I wouldn’t worry about you talking to my beloved. You will never see him again.”
Myra swallowed her tears and stared across the pit as the vampires stood up and stepped aside, revealing Tristan’s body. She sobbed and pressed a hand against her mouth. He looked dead, with his eyes wide open and staring unseeing, mouth gaping, and skin pale as death. His bare chest, stomach and arms were covered in numerous bites, bruises and slashes, and so much blood. She was too far away to see if the wounds were still bleeding—if he was still alive.
Yong ran his sharp nails over Tristan’s face and throat, laughing. “Not so high and mighty now, are we?” He stood up and slowly and deliberately wiped his filthy boots on Tristan’s bloodied chest. “Not so perfect now. Not so pretty. I have always wanted to push you back into the mud, where you belong.”
He knelt down next to his fallen victim and swiped his hand across the ground, picking up dirt and gravel in his palm. “Dirt,” he said. “This is what you are. You see that?” He waved his hand in front of Tristan’s unseeing eyes. “Soon this will be all that is left of you. Dust to dust.” He poured the dirt onto his victim’s face.
Myra fell to her knees, retching. Her stomach had been empty; otherwise she would have surely vomited all its contents. She looked up and gasped—tears were rolling down Armida’s face.
“You don’t want this,” Myra sobbed. “You care about Tristan. Stop this horror.”
“Yong, you imbecile, stop playing with your kill!” Armida shouted. “Stake him and be done with it.”
Myra pressed her eyes shut for a brief moment before opening them again. This was not what she had wanted Armida to say.
Yong grinned. “As my lady commands,” he said and spat in Tristan’s face. He then stood up and slung his victim across his shoulder. Tristan’s body was limp as a rag doll, his head and limbs dangling as Yong walked away, disappearing behind the rocks.
“No,” Myra breathed. “Where is he taking him? What is he going to do?”
“He is going to finish the job,” Armida said, her voice shaking. She wiped her eyes and turned to the gorge. A smile appeared on her lips although her eyes still glistened.
Myra followed her gaze. William arrived, closely followed by Indira, who was leading a large mule by a rope in her hand. So William had been one of Armida’s henchmen all along? Had the scene during her escape from the Palace been a charade? Another vampire stood by their side, her short pink hair bright against the grey rocks.
Anne. That explained the false intelligence. Anne had worked for Armida from the very beginning and had led the other two scouts to a certain death. But why?
Armida knelt by the Prince and placed her hand over his. “I am so sorry, my love. I never meant for you to get hurt. But I will take care of you now. I will make sure you are well.” Carefully, she lifted him in her arms, and William helped her mount the mule.
Indira threw Myra a glance. “What about the human?”
“She lives,” Armida said.
“And may I ask why?”
“Just a whim of mine,” Armida said with a shrug. “I guess you could say she chooses her loyalties wisely.”
“If you say so,” William said. His eyes surveyed the battlefield until his gaze rested on Alex. “He is one of the bad guys, right?”
“Yes, he is one of ours,” Anne said and looked at Myra. “Is he dead?”
“I don’t know,” Myra admitted and regretted it immediately as William walked to the fallen vampire and with a single stroke of his sword separated his head from his body.
“Now we know for sure.” He licked the blood off his blade. “Mmm, he had been alive until now. Too bad I didn’t drink him first before killing him. Tastes good for an herbivore.”
“William,” Armida said, her voice a low, stern hiss. “The girl is this close to turning to our side, and you are doing all you can to disgust her.”
Myra threw her an incredulous stare. If she had ever seen beauty and romanticism in the life of a vampire, Armida had done all in her power to destroy it.
“What about her?” William pointed at Ila.
Myra’s heart stopped beating. Ila lay in a pool of blood and rain, her clothes soaked through so that it was impossible to tell where her wounds were. “She is dead,” Myra said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“How do you know?” William asked.
“I killed her,” Myra said, her voice hollow. “I shot her, and then I ran her through with a sword, and then I staked her right through the heart. She wanted to kill the Prince.”
Armida laughed. “Well, well, well! Who would have thought? You are one of us now! William, dearie, stop interrogating the poor girl. We have no time for this.”
Without saying another word, she turned the mule and rode away, followed by the other three vampires. Myra collapsed to her knees, staring as they disappeared among the rocks.