 
### Vampyre Desire Immortal

By Joni Green

© 2017 Joni Green

Smashwords Edition
Also by JONI GREEN

Murder at the Buy-Right – A Cozy Mystery

Secrets of Beddelac Island - A Cozy Mystery

Beastly House (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 1) – 1920's Murder Mystery

Cupid's Archer (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 2) – 1920's Murder Mystery

The Dust of Death (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 3) – 1920's Murder Mystery

Ashes of Yesterday (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 4) – 1920's Murder Mystery

Pale Moon Over Paradise (Book 1) – 1950s Jim Crow Era

Five Miles to Paradise (Book 2) – 1950s Murder Mystery

Songs of the Night – Civil War Romance

The Bad Room – Horror

In the Belly of the Beast – Dark Paranormal Romance

Behind The Smile – Collection of Short Stories

Children's Books by Joni Green

Let's Count to 10

The Alphabet is Easy

One Raindrop

The Magic Trunk

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Free Book

About the Author

Also by the Author

### Chapter 1

Dead Man's Sleep

Sleep the sleep of dead men drowning

In a sea of blood.

Let that sleep protect you, darling.

Vampires gather for the feast.

*****

I was a beautiful child. Everyone in the village said so. I look around the room: stone walls, a bed, a table, a bronze candle stand. No one else hears the faint scratching on the window pane. The whole house sleeps like dead men.

Dead.

That's how I feel.

The cold winds blow in. I shiver, stuffing a rag tighter between the cracks at the sill. I hear the sound again above the screaming winds. Louder this time. More insistent. The candle's orange flame flickers. Will it go out and leave me enveloped in the depths of darkness? Beads of sweat pop out on my forehead. I feel my fluttering heart waver inside my chest.

I should be under the covers, not traipsing about barefooted with nothing but my nightgown on. I will surely catch a cold. Then, what will I do?

Perdix says there's only so much his alchemy can do to remedy the pangs of the body. I think Perdix can do anything. He's a wonderful alchemist and a brilliant wizard. He knows the Great Secrets. But he says no, not everything. Perhaps, he is right.

A large rat skitters across the floor, seeking invisibility in some far corner. I pay him no heed. The scratching is getting louder. Louder still. It threatens to drive me mad.

" _Who are you? Can't you just leave me alone?"_

I cover my ears. It does no good. It seems I will drown in this noise that grates on my nerves and echoes in the chambers of my ears. I sink to my knees.

" _Oh Lord, help me."_

The sound, like iron nails scoring over slate, stops. The winds abate. The room becomes as quiet as a tomb. The candle flame burns steadily, its faint glow casting dim shadows here and there.

The unicorn hangs on my wall, white and noble, and about to be slain. It is a most lovely tapestry. I can spend hours looking at its intricate detail.

The dogs are many. The hunters number more. They have their spears drawn. It won't be long before it's all over. I feel the old ache in my heart. I wish I could enter that woven scene and set you free, my friend – my companion for all these years I have lived behind these castle walls.

I feel for you.

I am you in so many ways.

There are not many of us, you see.

Unicorns and princesses.

We are both dying breeds.

Perdix says so.

The wail of the gale picks up again. He rides the wind. There. There it is. The scratch upon the pane. Louder now. Louder still. It is no use. No use. I cannot stand it.

Throwing open the window I feel the damp cold burst upon my skin. I thrust my body into the blast. The howling madness of the night swallows me whole.

And there he is, floating in front of me, high above the ground like a black mourning dove. I wince as the needles of his sharp fangs pierce my neck.

I see the unicorn before my eyes.

The hunters' spears have hit their mark.

Chapter 2

### The Alchemist's Spell

The earth sleeps for all save the nocturnal creatures of the night.

They are alert and roaming.

It is the feeding hour.

*****

"Why in heaven's name are you still up? The hour is late, and demons play in these moments before dawn."

It is Gilia.

"Get to bed this minute. You will catch a chill. Off. Off with you. Why can't you sleep? Is it the wind?"

"You hear it, too?"

"Of course," she said. "It howls like a mad witch from Gilvynna."

"Perdix says . . ."

"Please, milady. Permit me to speak. You mustn't listen to anything that old Mahoun says. He is a fox, that one is. The devil's apprentice, I say. And a mighty old, worn out one at that! Put no stock in the witchcraft he does. I don't. And you shouldn't either. His sorcery is as feeble as he is."

"You speak ill of Perdix because his ointment failed to rid you of that lump that grows on the end of your nose. Speak truth, Gilia. That is the reason, isn't it."

"And why not? Look at this thing. It is awful. I'm ashamed to show my face outside your chambers. The salve does no good. It is useless. This hideous thing is getting as big as a toad. All I am doing now is waiting for it to sprout hairs so I can braid them."

"But how can you expect the spell to work if you do not do as Perdix says?"

"Bah! Who has time to venture to the hog pen five times for three days to smooth pigs' mud over it? A mask of mud he says. With piglets' poop. I'm supposed to smear that scite all over my nose. I could not breathe for the stink. But a pretty corpse I'd surely make. Give me strength not to pop my cork. I must keep my wits about me."

"I think you are too harsh. Again, I say, how can the ointment work if you do not follow what Perdix says?"

The ointment should be enough. Enough, I say. The old man is daft."

"You could let him cut it off with a hot knife like he suggested."

"And bleed to death!

"Perdix says the heat of the blade will staunch the flow."

"And what if he's wrong? This thing grows larger every day. All my blood is pooling in this monstrous growth," Gilia said, pointing to her nose. "I'm sure of it. No. No, thank you."

"You favor Urien because my father likes him so," I said. "But he hasn't helped you either."

"That's because I was cursed by the old alchemist's magic. Urien took one look at this wicked bump and said there's nothing he can do. But Urien's spell to rid your father of that pesky soreness of the foot worked didn't it?"

"I think that had more to do with staying off it for several days."

"You speak nonsense. It was Urien's spell. He is young. His magic is strong. Ask anyone."

"I pumped ship in your palm, and you took it straight to Urien. What did he tell you? Did he say I am mad because my piss tastes of henbane? Tell me, Gilia. Tell me now."

"You talk out of your head, Milady. It is late. Now, get to bed this minute. Up all hours. I swear my eyes will snap shut tomorrow from the lack of sleep tonight! Get to bed. You will be the death of me."

*****

The brown-headed little boy was still crying. The piece of black, stale bread should have stopped the flow of tears. Mitings were such spoiled little mongrels these days.

Perdix watched intently as the white horse the child sat upon slowly made its way through the cemetery. They had already spent many hours here. His arm shielded his face as he glanced at the progress of the sun.

Clop clop. Maybe, he thought, I have picked the wrong graveyard.

That was ridiculous. Ars magica. The stars would never let him down. Not now.

The crying slowed. The little boy had the hiccups. Perhaps, he should have chosen the blonde one. No. The omens pointed to this one.

Chosen.

But such a frightened little fawn.

Perdix hawked and spat upon the ground.

The horse stopped. He twitched his long tail, batting the few flies that buzzed around him. The breeze picked up, wafting through the leafless tree limbs, bending the branches like skeletal claws.

Perdix gazed skyward. Strands of long, steely gray hair whipped across his face. His beard blew over his shoulder. The dingy layers of dirty rags danced away from his body, flying about like flags on a pole.

The heavens darkened from blue to charcoal. Clouds roiled overhead. Perdix heard a clap of thunder in the distance. His breath caught in his throat.

Was this a false alarm?

Would the nag begin his course again?

A white-hot finger of lightning struck near the round tower of the old church. Sparks flew from the tree, and it cracked in two. The ground shook beneath their feet, yet the three stood suspended as in a painting. The clouds split. The sunlight, binding earth to heaven, beamed its steady rays upon one gravestone.

The horse neighed and pawed the ground with its hoof.

Perdix smiled.

If he'd been brought to this place and forced to pick one stone where strong magic lived, it would be this very one. Sinking into the earth and green with moss, the lichen-speckled marker was one of the oldest in the cemetery. The stone slab rested flat on the ground like a table top. It bore no name, only the family's crest and a cobra and a quiver of arrows. Nevertheless, he knew who rested there.

Dyryke d'Cerroj.

Warrior of Death.

Goosebumps prickled his skin. The die was cast. Now, it was time for the real work to begin.

### Chapter 3

Betrothed

The children sleep inside their little hovels. So soundly. Like angels. They are so succulent, juicy, moist, and tender. To pierce their flesh is a joy unfathomable.

Except for those whose parents hang around their necks the iron amulets.

That is an abomination most horrific. It is a cruel joke to play upon the one who feeds beneath the indigo curtain of night's starry skies.

*****

I throw open the shutter and look up at the sky. Dusk is coming. Even now, I see the lazy rise of the great orb above the horizon. It is a full moon, and in two more, I will be thirteen.

A woman.

The wedding will happen soon.

And why not?

Although I wish it could have happened differently, I was promised the day I was born. Word has already come that Wolfstan is making his way toward my home of Castle Corlac.

Perdix has promised to help me.

And he must!

Holy Mary, give me strength.

O Blessed One, give Perdix success.

*****

The young man threw the leather bag above his head and emptied its contents. Red wine spilled down his shirtfront, leeching across his chest like a giant blood stain. The branch he held loosely in his other hand was long and supple.

"If you beat that horse much more," said Galleron, "he's going to drop dead in his tracks. I only say this because he is a fine animal. No finer can be found in all of Megara.

"You're right, Galleron," he said. "And that is the only reason you escape with your life for speaking to me like that. You may be my cousin, but blood means nothing to me."

He slapped Galleron across the face with the bough, laughing merrily because he caught the young man off guard. Blood droplets formed along the angry red stripe that marked Galleron's face.

Galleron never winced. He averted his eyes, looking at the ground so Wolfstan would not see the fury that burned in them.

"Give me your wine. My bag is empty, and as always, I thirst," Wolfstan said, scratching his groin. "It is only the grape that makes this fire in my inguen bearable. Why should pleasure torment me so?

A curse on all the fairer sex. Whores and their filth and all their rotten diseases. By God's bones! There never was a woman born t'was nothing but a peevish flirt."

Galleron handed Wolfstan his leather bag full of wine.

"Eve the Great Deceiver beguiled the hapless Adam with her charms to eat the fruit forbidden and then be damned," he said.

Wolfstan gulped the wine. It left a bloody trail zigzagging down both sides of his face.

"And I must admit," Wolfstan said, wiping his chin with his sleeve, "that Nether World between their legs is like forbidden fruit. I find it so irresistible."

He winked at Galleron like a sly, wicked boy.

"And it is so much tastier if snatched from a wench who denies me, who fights and screams for mercy and screeches her protests in vain!"

*****

"You see, Perdix," said the sorceress, "my crystal does not lie."

Perdix looked into the clear beryl stone. The corners of his mouth arched down.

"You must help me, Fye," he said.

"But why Dyryke?" Fye asked. "Of all the dried up bones in the graveyard, why him? Didn't he hurt you enough when you were younger?"

"The past cannot be changed. Tis best forgotten," said the old man. "Dyryke's magic was strong. If we are successful, then his ghost will make the king see that the princess must not marry such a wretched scoundrel."

"But this marriage has been arranged forever. Besides, the King listens to no one," Fye said.

"I fear you are right," said Perdix. "But if there is any voice he will heed, it is bound to be that of the specter of Dyryke d'Cerroj. Our Majesty respected that man. It's my only chance to stop a catastrophe."

"You speak as one most desperate, and this is no small favor you ask, Perdix. Why should I agree to help you?"

"We are old. Our lives are spent. Her Royal Highness is beautiful, young, and innocent. She does not deserve this man."

"You are in love with her," said the old witch. "You want the fair child for yourself. You old devil! The fires of lust never die in your kind. I'm always amazed by that. But then, I think it is because women burn up the lusty flames."

Fye spat on the ground.

"When the womb withers, desire fades," she said. "But males. By God's nails. You are like stallions ready to mount any young mare. And she is a looker, that one. You have good taste.

An aged alchemist coupling with a beautiful princess. Ha! Ha!

It is a funny picture you have put in my wicked, old head.

Bumpity. Bump. Ouch. Your crown, Your Highness. Hide it in a drawer. Each golden point is a spire that my old spindle can never hope to match in length. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"You are mad," he said. "That is insane."

"Ah hah," she said, "I see I have struck a nerve. I knew I was right. You dirty, old man. But whatever your plans for the princess, they mean nothing to me. It is gain I seek. If we are to forge a deal, then you must make it worth my efforts. What you are proposing could get us both killed."

"Nonsense, we will practice the utmost care. No one will know. We will strike from the side where they dare not look. We will be fine. Trust me."

"What's in it for me, Perdix? You still haven't said. You're asking a lot. The price you are willing to pay must be precious."

"I will give you the Philosopher's Stone."

"The Great Work," she said. "You have done it. If there was anyone in this valley who could have achieved this, I would have said that it was you. But this is a magnificent gift you offer. What strings do you attach to it?"

"There are no strings," he said. "You help me raise Dyryke, and I will give it to you."

"But what if your plans go awry? Things have a way of veering off chosen paths."

"If I fail, it does not matter. The Great Work is yours. Think of it. All the gold and silver of this world will be yours. It works; you have my word.

The basest metals lying around at your fingertips, you can turn to silver or gold. Silver and gold. Gold and silver.

I will give the Stone to you, and you will have in your hands the makings of a treasure beyond your wildest dreams. Or if you would rather forsake treasure, then eternal life is yours. Whatever you wish, it will give you one of those two things. But you must choose which one your heart desires most.

Promise you will bring your strongest magic. We will try. Once the act is over, it's yours."

"But this one," Fye said. "You know what he did. To raise him could destroy us both."

"He is the one. The gods have shown me. I don't want to do this, but we have to. If the princess is to be saved, we must."

"But I fear . . ."

Perdix dug into his layers of rags. From some hidden place, he withdrew a small vial on a string. Inside was a tiny stone floating in a clear liquid. He held the tiny vial, like a precious jewel, between his dirt-blackened thumb and index finger. He twirled it in the sunlight.

A kaleidoscope of colors appeared inside the bottle, throwing off a rainbow across the witch's face. He quickly put the string back over his neck.

"Ahh," she said.

Fye's eyes narrowed. She licked her lips.

"I don't know," she said, but already he knew that Fye was clay in his hands.

### Chapter 4

Resurrection

Just one wish in all the universe –

The River Red floods its banks

To quench my beastly thirst.

*****

The raising of the dead is no easy task.

There would be many dark days and nights ahead.

The old alchemist was lost in thought.

" _What are you doing?"_

The memory of those words echoed in the cold chamber.

Perdix sat on a low bench at his long wooden table staring into the small flame that flickered in front of his face. There were scores of beakers full of colorful liquids and a myriad of dusty jars with ingredients unimaginable.

Spices of every variety and a mountain of dried flowers and plants lay scattered about the room. Flasks and jars of ointments and balms lined the shelves behind him. From a tiny window behind his back, gray light lit the room.

The flame flickered. He did not blink as scenes of the past played out in front of his rheumy eyes. His lower lip moved in a silent monologue.

There was no turning back now.

Perdix ground his teeth. He'd wanted to warn the King the youth was no good. The young Princess forbade it. He must say no more. To do so would risk banishment from the castle. Or worse.

A quick rap on his door broke his reverie.

"The door is unlocked," he said. "Come in. Come in."

He heard Gilia's voice through the crack in the door. She refused to enter.

"You are a skittish colt," he said.

"And you are such a boar, Perdix."

"What? What is it? You waste my time," the old alchemist said.

"It is the Her Royal Highness. She has fallen on the steps to the stables. I explained to her that you would be of little aid. But she is deaf to whatever I say."

"How many times have I told that one to steer clear of those stones? They are loose. And now she has fallen. Is she gravely injured?"

"No, Perdix. It is only her knee. It is cut and swollen. But you know the slop that is on those stones. They are covered with filth dropped from the tower rooms above. You must do something. A balm. A salve. A prayer. Anything," said Gilia.

"What about Urien? Won't her father call for him?"

"The child calls for you, Perdix. Only you. She forbids me to seek out Urien. I fear she is in much pain."

"I will come as soon as I can prepare the magic," he said. "Where is she?"

"Her chamber."

Perdix skittered about the room. He gathered many ingredients and set a metal pot over the flame. Dropping leaves and twigs and sundry other things in, he watched them catch fire. He waited until the flame turned cerulean and quickly poured a brackish liquid into the mix.

A thick cloud of acrid smoke rose from the potion. The vapor turned from gray to white. Perdix poured the viscous liquid into a small stone box and set it on the ledge to cool.

It would take several minutes before it congealed. He stared out over the land surrounding the castle.

The fog of yesterdays two year prior rose before him. He frowned deeply. He should have known he could not save her. That magic was too strong. Even for him.

*****

It was two years ago.

The black feather of the crow had blown through the window. It was an omen. A bad one. Perdix abandoned his beakers and flew to Ava's chambers. His heart was pounding in his throat.

Adrenaline filled his muscles with unearthly strength. He pushed open her door, and it clattered against the stone wall.

His jaw dropped, and for an instant, he could not move.

"What are you doing?" Perdix yelled.

"How dare you barge into the chamber of the princess without permission! I will have your head!"

Wolfstan held Ava by both wrists. She was struggling, but there was no chance the small girl could escape his grasp. Her gown was ripped. She was as pale as the delicate blossoms of the summer snowflake.

"Get away from her," Perdix said, storming across the room.

Wolfstan drew his knife with blinding speed. He slashed across the old man's face, ripping a jagged wound from the top of Perdix's scalp, across his right eye and cheek, and slicing across the old man's left shoulder. Blinded by rage and blood, Perdix kept charging.

He slung the young man across the room. Wolfstan slammed into the stone wall and slumped to the floor.

"Did you kill him?"

"No. He merely sleeps," said the alchemist.

"Pity."

"Are you alright?"

"I am now. But you are not. Oh, Perdix! What has he done to you?"

"Do not worry. I will be fine. Where is Gilia?"

"He sent her away."

"Galleron! Galleron!" Perdix called. "Get your master out of here."

Galleron rushed to Wolfstan and began helping him to his feet.

"Take him to his chamber. He will recover soon. I am going to the King, Precious One. I must convince him to break this horrid arrangement."

"No, I forbid you. My father will not listen. You will be banished, Perdix. And I will have only Gilia to protect me."

The old alchemist's shoulders slumped.

"I must go see Fye," he said, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

### Chapter 5

The Cat's Eye

Barbed tongue and loathsome fangs.

We are but prey to Evil's child.

*****

"Can you restore my sight, Fye?"

Fye was outside her hovel. She stopped skinning the rabbit she was preparing for dinner. She looked at the old man, lifting the dirty rags he'd wrapped about his head.

"I don't know," said the witch. "The wound is very deep. I hope I can. Come with me."

Fye led him into her hut made of mud, straw, and sticks. She lived in the woods outside the castle where there were no prying eyes and none of the gossip that permeated everyday life inside the walls of Corlac.

"Down on the skin, Perdix."

The old man got down on the deerskin on the hard ground near the fire pit. Fye went outside with a handful of herbs. She came back and crossed the room, removing the lid from a large wooden box in the corner.

The stench was pungent. She retrieved several other ingredients and returned to the gutted rabbit outside her door. She scooped up the organs and stoked up the fire beneath the cauldron.

Dumping each item in, she repeated several ancient magic words. The acrid smoke bellowed from the boiling pot.

Fye gathered the coals in the pit together in a heap. Adding more kindling, she stoked the flames even more. Sweat droplets formed on Perdix's face.

"Good, old man," she said. "We will start by burning out some of the poisons in that eye."

He merely groaned. Fye paid no heed. She was too busy. She went to another corner of the room and dug into the ground. Retrieving a large parcel, she loosened the skin coverings.

"Ahh, yes," she whispered as she unrolled the ancient scroll.

The sacred scroll was filled with drawings and inscriptions and had been handed down for many generations. Fye could not read, but the Ancients came to her in dreams, telling her the meanings of the glyphs and drawings. If she was to find a spell for Perdix that would restore his sight, it would be here.

She worked nonstop. She fed Perdix a broth that made him sleep soundly. He must not move or make one sound. At the end of three days, exhausted, she sat upon a rock beside him.

She brushed across his face with the magic herb. She blew her breath upon him.

He stirred.

"How do you feel?" she asked when he roused.

"Not bad. Not good, either," he said.

"Look," Fye said, holding up a reflection crystal in front of his face. "It's magnificent. Far better than I could ever have hoped.

Perdix studied his face.

"The window to my soul is no longer round," he said, pulling down his lower eyelid. "But the yellow color around it is quite beautiful."

"Close the other," Fye said. "Can you see?"

"The rat scurries from the shelf in the corner to the dark hole that leads outside. Fye, I fear he has made off with some of your prized seeds from the wooden bowl you keep on the ground."

"Ahh," she said.

She laughed, and the gap-tooth hollow of her mouth was wide and dark. The remaining teeth were velvety with plaque and food. Perdix noted that her breath smelled like a stagnant swamp. He looked about the dimly lit room. His mouth pursed. His brow creased. The mystery was solved.

"Your cat," he said. "It has one eye."

### Chapter 6

The Raising of Hell

Remove the sorcerer's heart and spit upon it. Stake it to his eye and rid me of the pest that wants one thing – for me to die!

*****

"By God's nails, you have brought the bishop," Fye whispered.

"Of course," whispered Perdix. "He speaks the language of the angels, does he not? Besides, Wolfstan is an infidel. After he marries Her Highness, he will sweep the vestry clean.

The bishop would make a pact with Lucifer to retain his comfy seat in the palace. Look at him. Fat. Finely dressed. You would do the same, Fye. Don't try to deny it.

Besides, he has the Book of Spells. He has agreed to read it. But only once. I do hope once is enough, but it is the best I can do. Then, he'll leave the rest to us."

Perdix looked up into the clear night sky. The galaxies hung low. He felt the weight of the full moon bearing down upon him like the mountains of the Tetzel.

"My Lord," Fye said, bowing her head to the regally dressed man.

"The pit burns well," said Perdix. "Its light should last long enough."

Fye bowed her head again.

The bishop glanced her way, said nothing, and stared into the fire.

"And we have the dogs of the court," the alchemist said.

"Good. They will alert us to the scent of Dyryke's ghost," she said.

"Remove the stone that covers the grave," the bishop said to Fye and Perdix.

"Yes, My Lord," Perdix said.

Both bent low and picked up the flat stone tablet. When they went to place it on the grass, the marker began to jiggle and dance like the earth was shifting beneath it.

There was a deafening cracking sound. They dropped it like a hot coal beside the hand-dug hole. Perdix and Fye jumped back.

The grass beside the stone glowed orange and yellow. A blinding flash of green-blue light and a roaring peal of thunder shattered the silence of the graveyard.

A huge cloud of dark, gray smoke billowed up, stinking with the burning smell of sulfur. Their eyes watered, and they hacked and coughed and tried in vain to expel the intense burning that made their throats raw.

The bishop screamed and turned as white as snow.

"Stand your ground," Perdix yelled to the bishop. "Fye!"

Fye lifted her head to the heavens and began chanting a magic spell. Lightning flashed. Thunder pealed. The winds picked up and blew with a mighty force. It seemed as if a war was being fought above their heads.

Fye's words echoed over the graveyard.

Once, twice, she repeated her spell. Then silence.

The winds stilled. The stars twinkled. The three stood among the gravestones as blue shadows danced over the graveyard. The flames in the pit popped and sparked as Perdix threw another log onto the fire.

"It is finished," he said. "We may begin."

Dyryke's stone slab was no more. The blacken pieces of rubble smoked and trembled and dissolved into the dirt.

Dyryke's stone slab was no more. The blacken pieces of rubble smoked and trembled and dissolved into the dirt.

The fire from the pit lit up the jagged hole that was about three feet wide and five feet deep. The ragged remains of a wrapped body lay inside with a few trinkets and a golden goblet, intricately decorated with jewels and precious stones. The chalice rested on the corpse's stomach.

Here and there, a bone broke through jagged holes in the burial wrapping that wound about the body from head to toe.

"Well," said the bishop, "I guess it's time for the witch to prove her metal. I can only hope she's as good as you say."

Perdix looked at Fye. He shook his head. Fye nodded once.

She moved closer to the open grave and peered down into the dark hole. She took a deep breath, spit into her hands, and rubbed them fiercely together. The dirt and grime melted into her saliva. She pressed her wet palms tightly against both temples.

She squatted down on the ground. Her long matted, greasy locks fell across her bosom. She lowered her chin onto her chest and began to chant in a strange, ancient language. The bishop had never heard anything like it.

"You were right," he said. "Her magic is strong. It is freezing out here. Look. I blow my breath. It becomes a frosty cloud, and my teeth are jumping in my gums. We will catch our death out here in this godforsaken winter blast. By God's cross, I should have worn my furs."

"Shh," said Perdix.

"By God's nails, I'm turning blue."

"Shh."

Fye was in a deep trance. Her head rolled from side to side. Strands of frizzled hair danced back and forth and round and round like leaves caught in whirlpools. Bits of foam formed at the edges of her lips. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She threw her face skyward and screamed.

The bishop jumped.

"Is she dying?"

"No. Now, please, Your Grace. Silence."

The bishop said no more. His tongue was stopped in his mouth.

Fingers of thick gray smoke suddenly begin to rise from the grave's hole in serpentine coils toward the stars. There was a strange buzzing sound from deep inside the pit. A bright blue glow and then, a spear of light flashed brilliantly from the center of the grave. A loud roar peeled from the earth, and the two men saw the silhouette of Dyryke's stiff, flat corpse floating in the air.

The rotting strips of cloth that wrapped the body fluttered like dancing butterflies in the eerie light. Fye screeched out commands in her ancient tongue, and the cadaver began to move to one side. When it was safely floating above the solid ground, Fye let go of her temples and spun around in a blur of motion seven times.

The remains dropped gently to the grass.

"Look at the cup," said the bishop. "They said he was buried with it. It is incredible. More beautiful than anything I have ever seen. So many jewels. So many wonderful stones. And solid gold, too. I must have it, Perdix. I must."

"But My Lord, we are not here to rob the dead but to restore unto him life."

"Nonsense," said the bishop. "I'm stuck in this cemetery in the middle of the night freezing my nuts off. I deserve something of greatest value for my misery. Give me the chalice."

Fye reached down and picked up the precious vessel. She felt the heat burn her dirt-encrusted fingers.

"It rages with fury, Perdix," Fye said, throwing the vessel onto the ground.

"What are you doing? Have you lost your senses?" the bishop said, grunting to bend over and pick up the cup before it rolled back into the grave. "Scite, you haggard fool."

Fye looked on as the fat man fingered the jeweled object without burning his hands. How odd, but she kept silent.

The bishop stood there. His fat, ruddy cheeks were like round apples as a smile spread across his face. His eyes caressed the shining object.

A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. The bishop jumped, almost dropping his precious find. He cleared his meaty throat.

"Unwrap the bones. We haven't got all night. I must be back before dawn. Tomorrow is tax day."

### Chapter 7

The Rotten Stinking Corpse

The bewitching hour is short and passes fast.

The Feast of Red is long.

Fore'er, it lasts.

*****

The old witch skittered down into the black hole.

"What is she doing?" asked the bishop.

"My Lord," said Perdix, "she is gathering some of the dirt the bones have been resting upon."

"Get out of that hole! You're wasting time," he said.

"Fye," said Perix, "hurry up. We are losing precious night."

"Don't pinch your nipples," the old witch yelled from inside the grave. "It isn't every day a blessing such as this comes round. My sack is almost full. You know I cannot pass this up. I'm going as fast as I can."

She climbed out of the grave and began to help Perdix unwrap the strips of cloth that bound the body.

"I'm glad that Dyryke is not a rotten, stinking corpse," said the bishop. "I'd hate to think I might spew the pottage I just ate all over this unholy ground."

The bishop belched loudly. He rubbed his large stomach.

Perdix's stomach growled. It had been many hours since he'd eaten the small piece of black bread and honey.

As Perdix finished loosening the last bit of rag from the body, he whistled softly.

"Look, Fye. The body is bones but the face is . . ."

"The face," Fye said, "looks like it was never in the ground. And he is as handsome as I remember. Such a face was sculpted by the gods, Perdix. I feel like jumping his bones and riding in joy to the moon."

"Do not even think such things, Fye. Tis a black omen," whispered Perdix.

"You are right. Forgive me," she said. "But you have to admit, he is beautiful even in death."

"If you two magpies are finished, I would like to get this over with."

The bishop had opened the Book of Spells and began reciting in Latin over the body. He refused to look at it, reading as quickly as he could to finish the spell.

"You must have paid him a pretty penny, Perdix," Fye whispered. "Dyryke was buried in secret. No one knew the chalice was buried with him."

"Aye. Between the two of you, I will die a pauper."

Fye held no store in the robed man's words. He was flabby and soft and obviously deaf to the wisdom of the Ancients. But never in a million sunsets could she have imagined what would happen next.

### Chapter 8

It Is Finished

O Unsuspecting Prey,

You think that walls protect you.

I come to you in dreams to feast.

Insensible fools, Insensible fools, lost in oblivion.

You sleep.

*****

"Do you hear that Perdix?" the old witch whispered.

"I do. It is the cries of the Damned."

"What's he doing? Are you sure he's reading right spell?" she asked.

"How would I know, Fye. He's a learned man. I know many things, but I don't know Latin."

"Scite," said Fye. "The fat fool will have the whole graveyard up and walking on our heads. We only want the one. Not the hoards. Do something, Perdix. Do it quickly. The bewitching hour is soon over. This is our only chance. The Ancients have told me so in a dream."

Perdix looked left and right. It seemed the whole cemetery was about to awaken. The earth covering the bodies in the cemetery glowed red like a hot fire from the center of the earth had been stoked beneath the sod where each one lay in repose.

The bishop was racing through the spell.

"No! No! No!" Perdix screamed, plowing into the holy man and knocking the book from his hands.

Fye quickly swiped it up and hid it in the innumerable layers of rags she wore.

The bishop was sitting on his ample bottom, red-faced, and sputtering curses at Perdix.

"Are you mad?" he asked.

"Look around you, my Lord," Perdix said.

The bishop cut his beady eyes across the graveyard.

"By God's Grail. They are all stirring."

"Gabriel's horn could not do better," said Perdix.

"I'm getting out of here," said the bishop.

His sausage fingers grabbed the jeweled chalice he had dropped on the ground.

"I'll take this with me," he said, hugging the precious cup. "We'll call your debt paid."

"But you can't leave now," said Perdix. "The one we want still sleeps."

"Let him sleep with the Dead forever."

The chapel bell began to toll.

The bishop looked toward the lonesome sound.

"Stay here if you want, you fools. I don't know why I ever let you talk me into this. You and your dirty little friend can kill yourselves out here if you like. As for me, I'd rather wake up safe and sound in my own bed than be found staked in this graveyard of purgatory."

"But . . ." said Perdix.

"But nothing."

The bishop disappeared into the blackness.

"What do we do now?" Perdix said. "Fye, what are you doing?"

Fye busied herself, cutting some of the silky black hair from the dead man's head and burning it in the fire. She took off her the rags and the coarse tunic she wore against her body. She bent down on her knees and scraped some dirt from the grave, smearing it on the eyes and mouth and chin and forehead of the corpse.

Naked, she picked up the bishop's book and held it high over her head. She walked around the grave seven times. Spitting in the fire pit, she lowered the book and lay on the ground, placing the sacred text on top of her face.

"When it is still and balanced atop," she said, "take a hot coal from the fire and put it in the center of the book."

"Fye," he began.

"Do as I say, Perdix. That fat man is right. Time is running out."

She reclined on her back. Her palms were facing skyward. Perdix found a stick and wedged a flat stone in the 'Y' of the branch. He reached into the glowing embers at the edge of the pit. Retrieving a hot coal, he placed it in the center of the book. It burned a small black hole clean through. He saw Fye's palms clench into fists.

Just at the instant he was sure he'd killed his friend, she grabbed the book from her face and tossed it aside. Scrambling up, she smiled. A large circular black stain of charcoal marked the center of her forehead.

"I have what we need to know, dear friend, right here," she said, pointing to her forehead. "We must hurry before the magic escapes us."

Fye knelt down on her knees beside the bones. Solemnly, she began to intone a different spell in Latin. The air around her became electric. Perdix watched as the graves around them ceased to glow.

Rings from heaven shot down from the stars and encircled her. They pulsed and vibrated and gave off eerie sounds. Perdix cupped his ears.

Fye began to sway. Her eyes were white orbs in their sockets. Her head tilted up, and she faced the low, full moon.

A ray of silver light shot down from the celestial orb into the ancient burial ground. It lit the bones of Dyryke. They rattled. Perdix heard their noises. The neck of the dead man buckled, and the lips of the corpse opened wide in a hideous silent scream.

The ground about the bones began to smoke. Grass and vines and all sorts of green plants sprung up from the blackened earth. They wove a cocoon around the corpse from head to toe. Perdix felt his breath involuntarily fill his chest. He gasped.

The full moon moaned above their heads. The plants withered and died before his eyes. Perdix heard sounds like steps on dried leaves as they fell away.

The bones were bones no longer. It was a body, full of flesh, and the jet black hair on Dyryke's head glistened beside the glowing fire.

Fye finished the spell and collapsed into a heap of dirty rags that lay on the ground. A black cloud swept across the lower half of the moon. A blast of frigid air drove through the gravestones, whistling and whirring.

He heard the crow caw. The owl screeched. Swooping down from the black night's sky, a gigantic bat flapped right by Perdix's head and landed on the ground atop Dyryke's still body. Perdix watched in horror as the creature covered itself with one gauzy wing, transforming into a vampire.

The vampire turned back, looking Perdix squarely in the eyes, smiled, and swooped toward Fye. He threw her down on the ground and bit her in the neck. She screamed and fought to no avail. Before Perdix could move, the vampire disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Perdix yelled to Fye and moved toward her, but the witch was too quick. In a flash, she dashed toward the body and disappeared inside his opened mouth and down his throat.

"Fye! Fye! What have I done?"

### Chapter 9

Black Mourning Dove

Black. the mourning dove.

Coos at end of day.

Black dove of mourning.

After Death has had its say.

*****

Perdix heard the air sweep into the dead man's lungs.

The Breath of Life.

But was it all at Fye's expense?

The alchemist was frantic. Fye had been a friend for many years. He sank to his knees and bowed his head against his chest.

"Afterling, do you know that weaklings are the one thing I despise?"

Perdix looked up into the glowing eyes of Dyryke. Did they burn with madness or an evil so depraved that demons cowered before him?

"Your Grace," Perdix said softly.

"What is it that you want from me?" the towering man asked. But Dyryke's long slender hand stayed the alchemist before he said one word. "Do not trouble yourself to say it aloud. I already know. It is written on your face and carved into your heart."

Perdix heard a mirthless, throaty laugh.

"You have your wish," Dyryke said. "I will make it so. Your beloved Princess will prevail. Go back to your beakers, your experiments, and your workbench. Leave it all to me. I pity you. Your time on earth is short. Leave me. I have no use for you."

Perdix turned to go, but not before he heard a loud whoosh and felt the hot breath of the black mourning dove as it flew close by, barely missing his head by inches.
Chapter 10

### Too Much Is Not Enough

It is a wretched night.

The ghouls, they go a'howling.

It is a wretched time

When Ichor goes a'prowling.

*****

I hear the maids outside my door.

Gilia. Gilia. Just go away and leave me in peace.

How sluggish I feel today.

So unlike myself.

It's as if the wind has been sucked from my lungs.

My energy wanes.

I must sleep.

Was I out all night?

How quickly the purple shades of evening recede into the roses, pinks, and oranges of the new day.

I lick my lips.

The taste of blood is sweet upon them.

Dyryke promises that with time I will grow stronger. Stronger, perhaps, than even he. It is possible, he says. But we will have to wait and see.

Dyryke says I must go through with this wedding. I must, he says, for the good of Megara.

But we will wait and see.

I think of the people who live around my father's castle. For all my life, I have looked down on all but a few. They are animals. Savages. Brutes. Dirty peasants. Horrible gruntlings. Trolls, the lot of them.

But more and more, I find my attitudes are changing. No, they are not quite so repulsive. Not so very much.

My mind recalls their dirty faces, their grimy hands, the filthy rags they wear as clothing, and a warm glow blooms inside my bosom.

A very warm glow.

So many of them.

My people.

Full of Life.

Going about their daily tasks, unaware that they haunt my waking hours.

Dirty faces. Grimy hands. Filthy rags. The squalid little rats they call their children.

The infinity of endless nights ahead.

I sigh.

So much blood.
Chapter 11

### The Heart Once Stopped

The days and nights of wanderlust.

The nights and days.

Unhallowed thirst.

*****

"I hold the Trinity in my hands," Perdix mumbled.

The alchemist was at his workbench.

"Trio of Universal Wisdom and Light.

Mercury. Sulfur. Salt.

You are here before me. Why in Jupiter's realm can I not see the answer?"

He'd ransacked Fye's house and found the sacred scroll.

Dry drops of ox blood o'er a dying fire.

Fill a quill and blow into the wind.

The heart once stopped

Will quiver faint and beat again.

It had to be here. Somewhere. He kept looking over the ancient text.

His eyes were bloodshot. His head pounded. How many days had it been since he'd lain down and slept?

He did not know.

The muscles in his back burned like hot irons had been dropped inside his tunic. The candle burned low in the stand. The wind wailed outside. A storm was coming up. He glanced around to the tiny window at his back.

The shadows of dusk were fast approaching.

Something touched his foot.

A rat, he thought. He kept reading.

It tapped his shoe again.

Again.

Harder this time.

"Fadoodle. You rodents must go somewhere else to play your games. Can't you see I have so much work to do?"

The nudge was even harder.

Peering under the table, Perdix saw no animals. Only the Book of Spells lay at his feet. He had brought it back to his chambers.

But he'd had no use for it. Unlike Fye, his knowledge was hard-earned and self-taught. He had no direct line to the Ancients.

"I wonder how she talked to them," he muttered.

He put the book on the table alongside the scroll. The black hole in the center of the bishop's book gave off a smoky smell. Like Fye. She smelled of many things, including smoke.

"Oh, Fye. Had I not insisted. Had I not asked for your assistance. You were right. You were right. I was a foolish old man in love with her and the idea of saving her. I am a foolish, old man. A foolish, old man. Forgive me, Fye. Forgive. It is all my fault. My fault."

The scarred work table began to shake. The workbench tumbled backward, and Perdix fell on his back to the floor. He got on his knees, grabbed the table's edge, and peeked up over it.

The charred circle in the center of the Book of Spells glowed red like an ember. An acrid curl of yellowish-green smoke rose to the ceiling. There was an audible whooshing noise and a blue flame popped out of the center of the black hole, burning hot and bright like a beacon.

How strange, Perdix thought. The center burns hot, and yet the book itself is not engulfed and turned to ashes.

He gingerly touched a corner of the book. It was icy cold.

"I must get the bishop. I must," he muttered.

Turning to leave the room, he stopped in his tracks.

The bishop would do no good. He'd screwed up the spell that night in the graveyard. On purpose? An accident? Perdix shook his head to clear his thoughts. He did not know. What must he do?

"Oh, Fye," he yelled. "If I only had you here to guide me and steer me toward a true answer."

Yes! That's it.

He whipped around and grabbed the book, prostrated himself on the floor and placed it on his face. His fingers curled into two tight fists. His knuckles were white. The long, dirty fingernails gored his palms, and blood from his hands streamed onto the stone floor.

When he awoke, it was morning. A blackbird hopped on the windowsill. In his beak, he held a long white feather. Perdix groaned and rolled over on his side. The Book of Spells fell beside him. Sunrays lit the dust motes, and for an instant, the old man watched them dance reels before his eyes.

The blackbird moved to the edge of the sill. Its beak positioned inside the room, it dropped the feather, and Perdix watched it float to the floor beside him.

"Give me strength," he said.

As he stood to his feet, he felt the pricks of a thousand white feather quills drag across the lining of his stomach wall.
Chapter 12

### Child's Play

To feast.

A glutton.

Gore smeared on my face.

To feel this life force vital in my veins.

A wicked paradise, indeed.

I wish to never, ever leave.

*****

It should have been child's play, Perdix thought. He'd copied Fye's method, and it should have worked. He even had the charcoal tattoo on his forehead to prove it.

But something was not right.

He gathered the herbs from his shelf, grabbed a frog's head from the bowl of dried animal parts, added and poured, chanted and intoned. The gooey mixture over the flame sizzled and turned into a light gray scaly lump.

Perdix threw the mess out the small window behind his back.

It was time to start over.

"What am I missing? What in Mercury's heaven am I leaving out?" he muttered.

Wiping the bowl clean with his sleeve, Perdix decided he needed some fresh air. It was time to go hunting, and he gathered his walking stick and a small leather bag.

He walked through the castle gate, speaking to no one. Nobody noticed the frail, bent man. They were all busy with chores or gossiping.

Perdix did not have to travel far.

Just outside the castle walls were a stream and a meadow. Several cows grazed on the emerald grass. Perdix retrieved a scraper from his leather pouch.

It had rained recently. The ground was soft.

"Ahh," he said, spying the mushrooms growing in and around the cow dung. "Perfect."

He filled his bag with many specimens and hurried back to his workbench inside the castle walls.
Chapter 13

### The Blood Plague

An orgy of blood.

Tis too divine to contemplate.

*****

"I am busy. Go away."

The knocks on his door persisted.

"Please, Master. Please. It is Xhahari. Terrible things are happening in the village."

"Come in. My door is always open to you."

Xhahari was the seventh son of the king's sister. The boy, a favorite of Perdix, was smart and eager to learn, and unlike Urien, Xhahari's cousin on the King's side, humble to a fault.

When he entered the alchemist's room, he stopped.

"What?" Perdix asked. "What is so important that you interrupt my work?"

"Is something wrong, Master? You do not look well."

"Forget that," said the old alchemist. "Why do you bother me?"

"I finished my studies early," said the youth.

"And why is that unusual? You are always twenty-five steps ahead of your teachers."

"Nothing is odd about that," said Xhahari. "But I was milling around outside castle gate. Just watching the people come and go. Something terrible is happening."

"Explain," said Perdix.

"There are many who come from great distances. They beg for safety, Master, for shelter inside the castle walls."

"Is there some evil that ravages them, that makes them come here?"

"I could not believe the fantastic stories they tell. It is a horrible, horrible plague that has befallen us."

"What kind of plague?"

"The Blood Plague."
Chapter 14

### I Am a Dead Man

A drop.

One drop.

Oh, it takes much more.

For I must drain you.

Bring you to Death's door.

But the specter flees.

For I will do just as I please.

I'll make you mine,

Eternally.

*****

I stand in the chapel. Not to pray. Though I must go hunting soon, I tarry. I like it here. The peaceful quietness is remarkable and rare. The smells and noises do not lay heavy inside these walls.

Is it because the holy pray?

I think it is because the priests regularly scour the place. Or maybe, it is because so few come here, anymore.

They are afraid. Afraid to venture far from the safety of their homes.

What false hopes they cling to.

In the darkening recess, the altar candles burn.

Quivering flames.

A consecrated band of orange light.

The hosts of heaven bend an ear to hear the saintly prayers sent on your blessed incense.

Vaporous tendrils, ethereal and smoky.

Little flickers.

Little prayers.

Little people

How I long for the darkening curtain of Eventide to fall upon the earth.

The stars move above as I fly about looking for my next delight.

I am not choosy.

A cow.

A peasant.

I snicker in spite of myself. Witty lines fill my mind.

A pleasant peasant presently chews his cud. The cud he chews I will eschew. I'll wait for a banquet of blood.

This ravenous desire devours my every waking thought.

Wolfstan will come tonight, too. He has sent a note. He wants to taste my 'forbidden fruit' before the vows are made. He thinks he shocks me. But it is I who will surprise. Throwing my head back, I enjoy a hearty laugh.

*****

Wolfstan could not stop giggling. Perhaps, it was the wine, but Galleron thought it was more likely the fact that Wolfstan believed his 'plan' would work wonderfully well tonight.

The ulcer that had appeared on Wolfstan's spindle had been painless, and so he had ignored it. But then, the rash came with foul weeping sores on his face and body that threatened to drive him mad.

Galleron had seen this evil pox many times before. Grown men screamed as their flesh dissolved to the bone. Just desserts, he'd thought. But a second later, he remembered the young princess soon to be Wolfstan's bride.

When Wolfstan arrived at Castle Corlac, he'd immediately dispatched his servant to find someone with a balm to ease his suffering.

"Find me a cure for this odious malady," he had drunkenly demanded.

Galleron spoke to the people who were milling near the castle gate. They told him the alchemist, Urien, was the king's favorite. He went at once and demanded a cure for his master.

"I have just the answer," Urien said. "Quicksilver."

Perdix was standing nearby. He had been summoned by Gilia who was frantic because the young princess was pale and lethargic.

"I fear she has been stricken by a fever," said the old maid.

"But the king has forbidden me to see her. He trusts only Urien in these matters, now."

"That quack speaks from his toes, Perdix. Once, I believed in him. But no more. I've seen him with our precious jewel. He stuffs her with potions, smears her with salves, and babbles spells like a brook. Nothing he has tried has helped her. She is worse. You are my last resort."

"He is young and has much to learn," said the old man.

"He knows nothing. A braggart. A leaf who thinks he is the tree," said Gilia.

"Give him time," said Perdix. "He has many mistakes to make before humility's robe he wears."

"What is with you? Why do you keep putting me off? Are you ill? You look like you've aged a hundred years. I come to you for help. You give me dull words that are meaningless."

"My magic fails me," Perdix said. "No matter how hard I try. Nothing works."

"Nonsense," said the maid. "You're simply suffering from a dry spell. Look at my nose. It is healed."

"The pigs' mud."

"When all else fails, try the thing you absolutely know cannot succeed. The mud was my last resort."

"It worked."

"Yes, I did as you said. I had to. The knot threatened not only to overtake my nose but swallow my whole face. Do you see it? No. It's gone. And I will smell like the hogs' wallow for the rest of my life, but a little stink is a small price to pay for the radiant blossom of good health, is it not?"

"You make me laugh," said Perdix. "I am glad you are well."

"Me too. Your magic works. It just takes a little longer these days to kick in, that's all. You need rest. Get some sleep. Come after your nap when your powers are restored. You must see what I am talking about, Perdix. If you do not help me, I fear the worst will overtake her."

Gilia left the alchemist near Urien's open door. It was there he overheard Galleron's pleas for a cure for Wolfstan's malady.

The young alchemist was prescribing mercury for the patient's malodorous disease.

"But he has tried that to no avail," said Galleron.

"But Wolfstan has yet to try my special ointment. I have added several secret ingredients to the quicksilver that are sure to free your master of this pox."

"If Urien is right," Perdix muttered, "I am a dead man."
Chapter 15

### The Fool's Bargain

The sun shines, turning pallid skin to painful scarlet.

Tis better to hide from burning rays.

And rest where prying eyes will never peer.

*****

There was nothing more to be done. Perdix crawled into a dark corner of his workroom and plumped up the sack of straw he would sleep on.

His shoulders ached. His feet were sore. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Scite," he shouted, furiously.

The bedbugs were feeding on him like ravenous wolves. He clawed and pinched and finally got up from his bed. His body screamed for sleep, but it would evade him tonight.

He gathered his things and went to the chambers of the princess. One look at her told him his worst fears were true. By candlelight, he examined her neck. There were two tiny puncture wounds, deepest maroon surrounded by circles of dusky blue. She was pale and feverish and, Perdix was sure, a member of the clan of Ichor.

None of his ointments, salves, and elixirs would help her. He whispered to Gilia to keep the girl locked in her room, but he doubted that even the hawkeyed handmaid was up to the task.

"It is not hopeless," he told Gilia, "but the situation is very grave. I will work on a solution. The best we can do right now is pray."

For the old alchemist, there was nothing left to do but go back to his workbench. He lit a candle and sat down. Deep into the night, the dim glow from his window could be seen by the castle guards.

*****

I put on my best silk gown. I bathe with scented water. The first time, Wolfstan caught me by surprise. But I will be ready for him.

Gilia says I am unrecognizable. What am I doing to blossom so quickly? It must be thoughts of marriage, she says. Little does she know.

I hop into bed, pulling the covers to my chin. I think it lends a more dramatic flair to hide my coming surprise.

The footsteps outside my door grow louder.

" _It is I," Wolfstan says._

Gilia will hear him. But he does not care. She will wait a moment or two, and when I utter not a sound, she will go on about her business.

There is no scandal now. The ceremony is but days away.

" _Ava."_

The running sores all over his face have dried a little. Still, anyone with half a brain can see he is not well. He hobbles toward my bed, unable to resist the lust that burns his loins.

I fling the covers back, just as he is ready to devour me.

He stops, his eyes round orbs. A wicked smile spreads across his face. He laughs with glee.

" _You are so beautiful," he says softly. "How can it be that such a child should grow so fair so quickly?"_

I lower my head and look up at him with eyes half-closed. This works like a siren's charm. I see his liver-colored tongue move slowly across his lips. His eyes are fiery coals. I smell his sweat, each pore so flooded with desire, and watch as passion swallows him completely.

" _Ava."_

His voice is thick and low. His breath comes in short bursts. His heart is racing.

" _Come," I say. "It will all be yours soon, anyway."_

" _They say you are barely thirteen," he says. "They lie. What black sorcery has turned the slug into the butterfly?"_

" _Unmask yourself, Wolfstan. You see me as I am on the day that I was born. Will you not extend to me that same courtesy to see you? Take off the sack, and let my eyes feast upon that which is soon mine till death doth part us."_

He hesitates.

" _The stories of your conquests, I have heard from many mouths."_

My words were like a spell, and in a trance, he disrobes before me.

What a pitiful sight. What a wretched specimen of manhood, diseased and filthy. He stands before me. I remain quiet, in shock to think this creature is my betrothed.

" _Ava," he says, and I note the slightest whimper in his voice._

I look at him and laugh. He is confused, unsure, trying hard to figure out what to do to regain the upper hand.

" _I am overjoyed," I say. "Overjoyed at the prospect of our union and the many offspring we will soon be having."_

He still says nothing.

" _It is alright," I murmur, much like a soothing mother to a wounded child._

I pat the covers.

" _Come. I will take the curse and lift it far from you."_

He staggers, not believing my words.

" _You do not speak, but your body talks for you."_

His jolly stick swells.

" _Quick," I say, "before the spindle faints and passion dies."_
Chapter 16

### The Clan of Ichor

We close our lids to morning's light.

We dream

Secure inside the Caves.

A peaceful place to digest all that we have fed upon.

*****

Perdix was awakened by a knock on his door. He was stiff and sore, having fallen asleep at his workbench with his head cradled in his arms on his work table.

"Xhahari," Perdix said, glancing out the small window in the castle wall. "What are you doing here? The sun is not even awake."

"Master," said the young man. "You must do something. The people perish. Babies are being snatched from their mother's breast. The Evil Ones seem to have a blood thirst that is unquenchable."

Perdix dropped his head on his breast.

"What is it, Master? Does your heart grow weak?"

"My heart," said Perdix, "is full of guilt. The pain of sadness threatens to stop its beating. What have I done?"

"What are you talking about?"

"It is my fault. All my fault. Believe me, Xhahari. I only meant to help, but for the blindness of my love, I am afraid I have unleashed a horrible thing."

"Then, it is true. You wish to make the princess your own?"

"No, of course not. Who have you been talking to?"

"No one, but I listen to the gossips at the gate."

"That is a mistake, Xhahari. You will learn nothing from busybodies. Lies and tall tales are not the stuff that makes a learned man."

"Forgive me, Master."

"There is nothing to forgive. You are young. There is much you still must learn."

"What will you do?"

"Leave me."

"No, Master. I will not. Kill me now, for I know you have the power. I will not leave you."

"Come then," said Perdix. "We have much work to do. The gods bless you."

The bent finger, black with grime, reached to touch the youth's forehead.

Xhahari saw the bluish-white bolt cross between the old man's fingers and his forehead. It looked like a deadly jolt. His young body shuddered for several minutes, but he did not lose consciousness. The room was filled with a smoky haze. Xhahari coughed and wrinkled his nose at the strong odor.

Perdix looked at the boy. He nodded his head.

"Andolin," the youth whispered.

"Yes," said Perdix. "Now, you know my darkest secrets."
Chapter 17

### The Caves of Rotou

The twinkling stars.

The alabaster moon.

The stream of scarlet glistens.

A moonlit river

In moonlight's soft glow tender.

*****

The Caves of Rotou sit high in the mountains near Castle Corlac. They are wonders of Nature, sheer rock walls, and so tall the clouds kiss their peaks. From here, darkling souls look down upon their prey.

The worn hollows in the barren, rocky crags have been safe havens for the Ichor for ages. Here the darklings rest. But in the valleys below, they mingle, walking among the human prey during the hours when daylight lures the unsuspecting from their dreary huts or beckons them to travel beyond the thick stone walls of the fortress.

*****

"Why are we packing all these things, Master?"

"I cannot know what we may need. I try to think of everything. I have seen the blacksmith. He has agreed to help me. I will go to him soon and gather all he has made. You are right, Xhahari," said Perdix, "the people of this valley are hunted. I should have known better than to delve into the magic of the Infinite Shadows. All I have managed to do is add to their clan. More Ichor means more human sacrifices. What was I thinking?"

"Do not blame yourself, Master. Your love for the Princess made you want to help her."

The old man's eyes grew large. He hesitated.

"I forget you know my reasons," said Perdix, "but you must never breathe a word of your knowledge to anyone."

"You have my oath," said the young man. "But there are many things I do not understand. Why did you go to the Queen to sire a child in the first place? There was already a male heir, five years old at the time."

"It's complicated," said Perdix. "The king cannot perform his manly duties. He has never been able to but that was a secret closely guarded. I was younger. My alchemy was strong, but no spell was strong enough to make his seed fertile.

Everything was tried.

The King wanted a male child. He was obsessed with having one. And the Queen was just as desperate to give him what he wanted. He would rid himself of her and find another female womb more fertile.

Dyryke was my rival. His magic was quite powerful. I still believe that if he'd only worked with me, instead of against me, we could have found a potion to make the spindle of the King work as it should.

But Dyryke would not hear of it.

He went to the Queen in secret with a plan to give the King an heir."

"But why would Her Majesty agree to such a scheme?"

"Dyryke was incredibly beguiling. As subtle as the serpent in the Garden. You cannot know. I understand totally why she agreed to his plan. My rival was the most handsome, charming fellow in Megara. If he had come to me with the same bargain that he made Her Majesty, I would have lain with him myself."

Xhahari laughed.

"What a wicked thing to say, Master."

"Wicked or not, it's true. Dyryke convinced her to give His Excellency an elixir to make the King sleep soundly. It worked. As our King snored beside the Queen, Dyryke came to her."

"In the same bed?"

"Of course. You would not expect Her Majesty to couple with another man on the cold stone floor of her chamber."

"I'm not sure what I expect," said Xhahari.

"And as luck would have it, her womb was fertile, and the seed Dyryke planted within her took hold. She was with child.

The King was overjoyed. Dyryke convinced His Majesty that the omens were good and that all the signs pointed favorably for a male heir to be conceived.

The King and Queen made the most of this great news, drinking and feasting privately in her chambers. After drinking the potion, he remembered feeling the heat grow inside his body.

He remembered nothing else of that night. The Queen told His Majesty that he had conquered her, that he was a beast whose passion was unquenchable.

The King lapped up her compliments like a hog at the slopping trough.

The male child was born. The bells tolled. But their joy was short-lived."

"He did not live long. I have heard the stories," said Xhahari.

"You have heard the stories that were allowed to be spread. They did their job. Throughout the realm, there was much sorrow. The royal child died in his sleep. His soul was taken by evil spirits intent on breaking His Majesty's heart. I know the stories, Xhahari. I spread them myself."

"To protect the Queen?"

"To save the realm," said the old man.

"What really happened?" Xhahari asked.

"That little boy that disappeared at five years of age was not the true heir to the throne. Dyryke and the Queen drowned the child that resulted from their union. The second, the one that everyone thought was the original baby, suffered a fate worse than death, I'm afraid."

Xhahari paled.

"It is true," said Perdix. "I was there. Come. We must be on our way."

"Where are we going?"

"To the Caves of Rotou."

"But that is where the Ichor live."

"Precisely."
Chapter 18

### Journey into Darkness

Pale flesh – like a beacon you guide me to that ignoble bliss.

*****

The small gray donkey stood still while the two packed all the things Perdix thought they might need for their journey.

"No one is here to see us off," said Xhahari.

"They are gathered in front of the cathedral to hear the vows of the Princess."

They crossed through the castle gate and out into the broad grasslands surrounding the castle.

"How long will it take us?" the youth asked.

"Many days," said the old man. "We go on foot and lack the swiftness of the big cat and cannot soar as the Ichor."

"Why did they drown the child, Perdix?"

"I was not privy to the Queen's innermost thoughts, my lad. I can only speculate."

"Why would you guess they did it?"

"I'm sure I cannot say."

"But you must have some explanation."

"To save their skins."

*****

It had not been an easy birth. Her Majesty had been sitting upright for hours, but nothing she could do would hasten the coming of the child.

The walls of the room were bare. Every tapestry had been removed. Nothing was left to chance. It would not do to let pregnant royal eyes fall upon some evil that was woven within them.

Her many servants were busy slamming doors and chest lids and doing anything they could think of to expedite the birth.

"Augh!"

The final contraction felt as if her womb was being pulled from her with dragon's claws.

"It's a boy!"

Those were the last words the Queen heard before she was overtaken by a fainting spell.

"Bring him to me," she said, hours later.

"Oh, Your Mastris."

It was the old doctor who had attended her these long months.

"What is it?" the Queen asked. "Do not gloss over the truth. Tell me plainly. Truthfully. Now."

"I am sorry, My Lady . . ."

"What. What. Tell me," she demanded.

"It was a monstrous birth."

### Chapter 19

Brem

Mortal life soon passes,

Save for that which makes the undead sing.

*****

"But Master," said Xhahari, "did the Queen not know that such an evil plan could come to no good?"

"You are such a smart young man," Perdix said. "Desperation drives even the sanest to the edge of the abyss. Besides, anyone who did not know Dyryke in his prime would never believe what a beautiful and deceitful man he was. I do not fault the Queen for falling for his plan. She was only a woman."

*****

"What are we going to do? His Majesty will lay one eye on this child and know immediately that it is not his."

Dyryke looked at her and smiled.

It was outrageous. She wanted to spear him through and through, but she must hold off doing anything until she found out if he could help her. Why had she submitted to his ridiculous scheme?

"My sacred love," he whispered.

He took her in his arms. She melted to his body, feeling his manhood harden against her silken robes.

"No," she said, pushing him away. "He will kill us both, you know."

"I don't care," he said.

"Well, I do."

"Perhaps," he said, "we could trade the child for another who is not so hideous."

"You fool," she said. "How do you propose that? The secret of our betrayal would be out before the sun arose."

"Perhaps, you are right. The enemies of the kingdom are many."

"Tell me what to do," she said. "I command you."

"Tell your maid you wish to bathe in private," he said.

"You can't leave me in the hour of my distress. I forbid it."

"I'm going nowhere. I will hide behind the door of your small hidden room."

"Wizard of Darkness," said the Queen, "how do you know about that?"

"Your husband was not the only one who partook of my special potion."

The Queen frowned but said nothing.

"Have her ready a pan of holy water and much perfume and fine smelling ointments."

"Holy water. To bathe in?"

No, of course not," he said. "But tell her you wish to make yourself especially clean and holy for His Majesty. You wish him to see you at your best when he views his rightful heir for the first time."

"I don't understand."

"You are merely a woman. You don't need to. Just do as I say. And whatever happens, just act surprised and distressed."

"I don't have to act. I'm so distraught I cannot trust myself not to burst into tears the moment His Majesty enters the room."

"Do not do that," Dyryke warned. "Smile and pretend all is well. We want him in a good mood. Our lives depend on it."

The large vessel of holy water was brought to the room along with many fine robes and gowns.

There was a knock at the door.

"Your Majesty sent for me."

It was Perdix.

"Yes," said the Queen.

She moved to the far corner of the large chamber.

"Come here. By the window. The noise outside will serve me well, I think."

"But Your Majesty," said Perdix, "you speak so softly. Your voice is barely above a whisper. I can hardly hear you."

"You would do well to talk as quietly as I do," she said. "Dyryke lurks behind a secret door over there. Do not speak loudly. Your voice will carry right to him."

"What is it? Have you fallen for the wiles of the serpent?"

"I might just as well have. You're an honest man. I have observed you for many years. Take this," she said, handing Perdix a golden ring with a large stone.

"I cannot take this," he said.

"You can. And you will. I need your help. My life depends on you."

She talked quietly for a few moments more. Perdix shook his head. He left the Queen and walked straight to the village of the outcasts. It was a long walk, but he made good time.

The few rickety houses of sticks and mud stuck out sadly against the giant trees of the forest. They were so poorly built they looked like a gentle breeze could topple them at any moment. No grass grew around them. The dirt was red clay and beaten hard as a rock by the innumerable barefoot steps of the peasant serfs.

Gray smoke from pit fires filled the air with an acrid smell. A man bellowed. A woman yelled. Kids were fighting and crying.

A muddy creek ran through the village, clogged with debris and human waste. Heavy gunmetal clouds hung low over the place.

The few spindly trees that dared to grow in the village commons hung their heads in shame. Everything about the place looked spent.

He walked to the graveyard of the outcasts. There was a wooden-wheeled cart filled with bodies being pulled by a man in rags so holey he was barely covered.

"Stop," said Perdix.

"Leave me alone," said the man. "Darkness falls soon."

"Let me help you," Perdix told him.

"Are you mad? Have the mushrooms blighted your thinking?"

"No, they have not," said Perdix.

"I am Brem," he said.

"I know who you are," said Perdix.

"Then you know you should not even be looking at me."

"Do not worry about me," said Perdix. "I can take care of myself. Your curse may cause weaker hearts to flutter, but I have great magic. It is strong and good. I will help you."

"But you will be cursed, too."

"Nonsense. Someday, you and I will be where they are. I will help."

Brem shook his head and pulled the cart toward the large pit he had dug earlier.

"You do this every day," Perdix said.

"It is a thing that has to be done. I hate it. But I am cursed. They let me live as long as I bury their dead. It is not a good deal, but at least, I'm alive."

Brem pulled the cart to the edge of the pit. Perdix began pulling off bodies of men, women, and children.

"You know," Perdix said, "if it wasn't for the smell, this wouldn't be a half-bad job. I mean, at least you have no overlord beating you with a whip."

Brem smiled.

"What do you want?" Brem asked.

"I don't know," said Perdix. "I come on a whim. If I find what I am searching for, perhaps I will let you know. Perhaps not."

"It is no worry to me," said Brem. "I am glad for the help."

Near the bottom of the pile of bodies, Perdix spied two newborn boys.

"A shame," Perdix muttered.

"The sprites fill the pits out here," said Brem.

"Let me have these," said Perdix.

"Are you going to eat them?"

"Of course not. Here is piece of pork. Barely rotten. The worms have not scavenged much. It will fill your gut if it doesn't decide to come back up."

Brem looked at the meat.

"I have never had such a treat," he said. "Take them. What are they to me?"

"Fewer carcasses to pitch into the hole," said Perdix.

"Less, yes," Brem.

As Perdix walked away, he could hear the man grunting and chewing.

He found a clear stream not far from the pit. In the middle of the forest, Perdix looked about. No prying eyes. No witnesses.

He washed the small, delicate corpses.

Two beautiful baby boys. Perfect in limbs. The right number of fingers. The right number of toes. No mark could be found on their pale, blue skin.

Which to chose?

It was a problem worthy of Solomon's wisdom.

Perdix made his choice, choosing the larger, more handsome one.

"Before I can perform the spell, I must have a name for you," Perdix muttered.

He peeled back a tiny eyelid. A cloudy eye stared back at him.

"Andolin," he said. "I shall call you, Andolin."
Chapter 20

### Andolin

The days

The nights.

They matter naught to me.

Yet, to drink your crimson blood,

Darkness makes a fine cloak

**For when I visit thee**.

*****

Perdix raced back to the castle. He would save the Queen. He would save the kingdom. He would be a hero.

All these thoughts raced in circles in his head.

"Go in," said the maid who stood outside the Queen's door. "You are expected."

Perdix did not knock. He threw open the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Close the door, you fool," Dyryke demanded. "You will get us all killed."

The deformed baby floated just beneath the surface of the water.

"Swaddle the child carefully," said Dyryke. "Leave no mark."

The Queen did as he said.

Dyryke turned to Perdix, "One word from you, and we all three die."

"Send the man away," said Perdix.

The Queen looked bewildered. She glanced at the small floating blob in the water.

Perdix said in a calm, quiet voice, "Send him away, Your Majesty. The king is coming. I have heard the warning trumpets. The maids are making ready for his entry, any minute. Leave this to me. Everything will be alright."

"Out," said the Queen.

Dyryke's eyes were narrow slits. Cold hate filled them, but he turned and quickly left the chambers.

"What am I to do?" she asked.

"The labor was hard, I know. But this is what I want you to do," said Perdix. "Go prepare for your husband. I must work quickly. There is not much time."

"How will you escape?"

"Never mind," said the alchemist. "Hold this one in your arms."

"But this baby is dead, too," said the Queen.

"Cry and fuss and tell them all that the poor thing died at birth. The King was not here. He will not know what has happened."

"But this child is dead. The King will kill me."

"Trust me," said Perdix. "Take to your bed. You must act heartbroken. But do not worry. I promise your life will be spared."

She left Perdix, climbing into bed with the swaddled corpse.

He worked swiftly.

As the king entered the room, he felt the passing breeze of the alchemist invisibly slip by.

The King heard one word whispered softly into his ear.

Perdix slipped out the door unseen, and it closed behind him.

The King looked down at his wife.

"Oh, Your Majesty," she said between the tears, "the child, once born, has died."

All at once, the Queen was overcome by horrendous pains in her abdomen. She could do nothing but scream and hand the dead little baby to her husband. He handed the little body off to a nearby maid-in-waiting.

"By God's grave," said the servant.

The dark crown of another baby's head shown between the Queen's legs. The servant cupped the baby as it plopped from the royal womb.

The maid quickly grasped the infant by the feet and smacked his bottom. The baby bawled loudly.

"It is a miracle," said the King. "One is lost, but one remains. I have a son! I have a son!"

"My wife," said the king, "you have done your duty well."

The queen sat down upon her bed. All strength had left her. She felt like the waters of Lake Ludwala.

"He crieth for his mother's breast," said the King.

The queen took the little baby, placing the infant at her breast.

The queen smiled, and said softly, "What shall you call him, Your Majesty?"

"Andolin."

### Chapter 21

The Pigeon's Coo

The blood that flows within you

Sends my soul to heights sublime.

Just to feel your pulsing life

Drain away

As I make it mine.

*****

"You swapped the babies," said Xhahari, "and put one inside the royal womb."

"Yes," said Perdix. "With only seconds to spare. I worked as quickly as possible. I had heard the peal of the King's trumpets so I knew he was on his way to see the newborn heir. I was sweating cow patties. My spell of invisibility never lasts more than a pigeon's coo."

"What did you do with the monster, Master?"

"I hid him beneath the layers of my tunics and cloak. I took the body and buried it in the pit of the outcasts. It was not difficult. The ground was soft. The gravedigger had finished his tasks and left. It was very late. No one was around to witness the act."

"You were not worried the Ichor might claim you?"

"No. I wore this," Perdix said, pulling down the high collar of his ragged tunic.

"An iron choker," said Xhahari. "Brilliant."

"Here," said the old man. "It is one of the many things I had the blacksmith make. It has been blessed with many spells."

Xhahari put the choker around his neck.

"Dyryke's son was horribly cursed, Xhahari. Even if they had not drowned him, he would not have lived long, I fear. He was broken in so many places: missing a hand, an ear, and his eyes were most evil. One at the top of his forehead, the other low on his cheek. Abominable. I shudder to think of him even now."

"Still, a royal among the outcasts," said Xhahari. "It doesn't seem right. What happened to the other one? The outcast you did not choose."

"No good came out of any of it, I'm afraid," said the old alchemist. "As to the other child, he was buried in the floor of the chapel in the royal tomb."

"An outcast among the royals," Xhahari muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Perdix stumbled. The way was rocky.

"Let us rest," he said.

They sat down upon the large boulders. Perdix drank some water from his leather bag, offering some to his companion.

"And Andolin," said Xhahari, "he lived but five years."

"Oh," said Perdix, "that was another story I was tasked to spread."

"What do you mean?"

"Andolin will never die. He is one of the Clan of Ichor and destined to live forever."
Chapter 22

### Heir Anointed

To hold you in my arms

And feel you floating free.

I drink of nectar red

I lose myself in thee.

*****

Andolin was sired by the Greater Unknown. He chose to make the Caves of Rotou his home. He loved to hear the winds howl through the magnificent underground chambers, watch the rays of sunlight spear through holes in the mountain and turn the waters of the obsidian pools to shimmering gems of green and blue.

The caverns were a labyrinth of tunnels and vast open spaces filled with organic columns of rock. There were endless crevasses and ravines that stretched down into the blackness of the earth's core.

The eternal echo of dripping water into death-stilled pools bounced off the stone walls and ricocheted across the infinite passageways. Time stood still here. And if he chose to stay within the dark recesses of the grottoes, Andolin would grow blind to the cycles of sunrise and sunset.

But he could not stay in the ebony confines of safety forever.

He was forced from his blissful sanctuary of solace into the loud, foul, rank, and chaotic world outside the caves because of his insatiable appetite for the blood wine that pulsed in the veins of dirty humans.

Andolin was as clean as a cat. Rotou was the only home he'd ever loved. His childhood memories were erased, save for the instant he first awoke in a glorious chamber filled with a million candles.

The warm glow from the flickering flames danced over the walls and columns of the spacious cavern. He was captivated. Far from being afraid, the small boy's eyes lit up like torches in this strange, wonderful place.

He did not see the Greater Unknown enter the chamber. But he knew the instant that he was not alone.

An inky shadow bled over the cavern's walls. The candle flames were smothered out. The small boy yelped in fear, but instantly, a calm soothing voice spoke his name.

From out of the darkness, it felt as if gentle arms were cradling him. Andolin relaxed.

Something in his small brain sparked, and a bridge between the boy and the Greater Unknown was spanned. There was no longer any need for words.

Andolin's eyes grew heavy. He began to fall asleep.

The slightest hint of a smile broke his lips the second he felt the needlelike pricks of the Greater Unknown pierce his neck.

The Life Essence oozed from his mortal body. Andolin felt the foreign flame of immortality torpedo through his heart and explode over his limbs like the sparkling tail of a comet.

He slept for three weeks in a trancelike state, lying naked upon a smooth stone altar in the center of the Grande Cathedral, a massive cavern twelve stories high and 300 yards across.

His chest did not rise, and his skin did not sloth. He was a pale, beautiful statue, sculpted by a great artist's sure hand.

When his eyes opened, he was fully grown and dressed in fine robes.

"My son," the booming voice from the darkest shadows of the caves thundered inside Andolin's skull, "go forth. Fearless and swift like the panther. Bold and brave as the bear. The wolf's heart is yours. The eagle's eyes are yours. The world is yours to do with as you please."

Sunlight did not bother him. He found he did not need sleep but liked to rest, now and then. Water would not quench the burning thirst that parched his inner soul. He could eat, but food did nothing to nourish his rock-hard physique.

He prowled among the mortals and watched them as they slaved under the hot sun, coaxing seedlings to mature and raising livestock and children. He was at home in the cathedrals, in the castle, or loitering by the gate watching the people come and go.

When Andolin walked down a crowded path filled with unwashed vegetables and the carcasses of rotting game, his steps were sure and his back ramrod straight.

The pox-scarred, pocked-marked peasants stared at his snowy, flawless skin. The sun burned shimmering highlights into the thick waves of Andolin's long auburn hair.

A pudgy young peasant smiled a toothless smile behind a grimy hand when he walked past, brushing the flowing locks from his handsome face with his fingers. A sausage-fingered butcher chopped a leg from the torso of a dog, hands bloodied and caked with black dirt, and spat on the ground. Those fine hands had never seen an honest minute's work, the butcher was certain.

The old man said as Andolin passed, "Nails as spotless as a virgin's honor. Ain't ya' skairt the soot 'ull rub off the coal 'n black yer arse! Ha-haw."

Andolin ignored him and kept moving. He loved to watch the blood pulse in their jugular veins. Life Essence. Scarlet wine. The mere thought of all the crimson nectar contained in all those beating hearts was enough to make him come.

He took a deep breath and laughed at nothing. How good it was to be, he thought.

Andolin was not chained to the valleys of Megara. The whole world was his doorstep. It had taken a few years, but he'd finally mastered the art of the changling.

It wasn't long before the young man merely thought of any animal shape, and he immediately felt the transformation turn him into it.

The soaring eagle.

The loping bear.

The stalking big cat.

The charging wolf.

With immense patience, he mastered the art of disappearing into a curling finger of smoke. His persistence paid off, and now he was able to think of a location and suddenly appear at that spot as a puffy gray, wispy cloud.

"Yar eyes are like the ice of winter, young man," an old woman remarked. "And as happy as a puppy, Pretty Pet."

He handed her a flower he'd picked on a whim. She smiled and her face wrinkled like a hundred-year-old potato; her pink gums were rosy and wet in her brown, leathery skin.

He liked being nice to them. They were like sheep, immune to the dangers he posed.

"You do not belong here," he said to Dyryke, the first night the vampire flew into the caves.

Dyryke bristled. The years underground had left him in a crappy mood.

"Fyke off," he said.

Andolin swooped down on the intruder, swinging at Dyryke s jaw with a hard left. Dyryke sailed across the cavern, smashing into a column of rock and cracking off a large chunk. The chamber shuttered.

Dyryke roared, plowing into Andolin with the top of his head.

"Hurrumph," he grunted, the air leaving his lungs.

Andolin flew into the air, landing in the Jade Reflecting Pool at the opposite end of the cavern. He bore through the water like a crossbow bolt, crashing into the bottom of the deep pool headfirst. When he broke the water's surface, he was orange with mud and sediment.

A deep guttural scream rumbled from Andolin. His eyes, like two fiery rubies, glowed with fury. With blinding speed, his fangs tore the left side of Dyryke's neck, ripping the flesh to the bone.

Dyryke howled, and his long claws ripped through Andolin's chest. Ribbons of flesh fluttered from his side, but no blood poured from the wound. He rammed into Dyryke's legs, smiling at the sounds of crack and snap as bones broke. Dyryke's shattered legs stuck out from his hips, oddly angled and bent.

And with every injury the two inflicted upon each other, the miracle of healing occurred instantaneously to both.

"We can go like this for Eternity," Dyryke said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not even winded," said Andolin.

"Nor am I. You are a worthy opponent," said Dyryke, "and have earned my respect."

"Ichor," said Andolin.

"None other," said Dyryke.

He pulled sprig of deadly nightshade from his pocket and placed it between his teeth.

Andolin was intrigued.

"You may set up house on the northern end. I like my privacy," said Andolin.

"You have a very Roman nose," Dyryke said, still chewing on the deadly plant.

"And your reflecting glass sees both ways," said Andolin.

### Chapter 23

Sluts' Juice

Blue of heaven.

Yellow of earth.

Red – divine and wondrous gift from hell.

*****

"I am rid of this scourge, Galleron," Wolfstan said. "I am sure I am free. Cured. I can feel it in my bones. I grow stronger every day. The scabs dry up and fall away. My skin is clear. It is that winsome lass. My wife. Who would ever think she is so young. She has blossomed so. Overnight."

"Witches do that," Galleron muttered, but not loud enough for Wolfstan to hear.

"She grows more beautiful each night I go in and have her," said Wolfstan. "And it seems that with each passing eventide, tis but a glorious dream. She should be with child soon. My son. I cannot wait. By God's bones, I am a lucky man."

"What are you doing?" Galleron asked.

Wolfstan was tying three leather pouches of wine and several other bound packages onto his horse's saddle.

"All work and no play, Galleron," Wolfstan said, winking at his cousin. "Besides, change is good for a man. Keeps him on his toes."

"You are going to the brothels of Barie, aren't you?"

"Of course. I deserve some time away. I have a beautiful wife who has set me free. And free is how I feel. Like a colt, I wish to run in other pastures. Besides, I'm sure Zamiot withers on the vine without my ardent proclamations of love."

"Withers," Galleron muttered, "perhaps not. But she is surely poorer, I am sure."

Wolfstan mounted his horse.

"I cannot be expected to be true to one only, Galleron. That state is unnatural. Besides, the fires within my loins burn too hot for one slut's juices to satisfy."

"What about your wife?"

"What about her? I'll only be gone for a few days. Just tell her I'm off hunting. It's not a lie, Galleron. Not by a long shot."

Wolfstan whipped his horse and shot off like an arrow.

Galleron did not move until the sound of his master's laughter echoed no more.
Chapter 24

### Cat and Mouse

I drink and cannot stop.

Divine this revelry

In scarlet, red, and crimson fair.

Unholy.

Yet, I do not care.

*****

" _Where is my husband?"_

" _I do not know," said Gilia._

It is easy to act ignorant. Oh, if you only knew, my faithful servant.

The powers that have been granted me allow me to know the thoughts of all around. Including the scoundrel who calls himself my husband.

" _Bring me Galleron," I say._

" _At once," she says and exits the room._

Galleron will lie to me, too. Tell me some stupid story. Wolfstan goes a'whoring. He ruts among the mire and wallows in their filth with great abandon.

My wicked husband thinks he is having fun. I play with him each night like the cat with a mouse. Tonight, I will show him just how much fun it can be to lick the harlot's festering sores and prostrate your soul before Sin's altar.

The sound of my laughter is frightening. Once began, it is uncontrollable, like the sound of the maniacs chained in the castle dungeons.

Oh, what pleasures, what torture I have in store for you, my wayward husband.

*****

The horse's hooves speedily took his charge straight to the brothel's door. Upon his knock, she threw open the door wide and laughed with gusto.

"I knew you would return," she said. "Just like the hungry dog comes back to lap what he's spewed upon the ground."

"You missed me. Don't deny it," said Wolfstan.

"The days in Barie are dull, My Lord, since you rode into the sunset," she said. "And what have you done with Galleron? Killed him off, have you?"

"No," said Wolfstan. "But that is not a bad idea."

Wolfstan was taking off his tunic before the raging fire.

Zamiot's breath caught in her throat.

"The stars above," she whispered. "I do not believe my eyes."

She moved closer, feeling his chest.

"What miracle, what spell has done this? Quicksilver? What wizard have you seen? What witch? Oh, Wolfstan, tell me. You must."

She bit him playfully on the nipple.

"Come," he said. "The fires in my loins threaten to consume me whole."

She threw him down on the dirt near the roaring fire. They made love, brutally and quickly. Zamiot's face was tilted toward the dancing flames. Wolfstan lay beside her, spent and sleeping.

Suddenly, the fire went out and Zamiot blinked, trying to focus in the darkness.

The coals sparked, only this time, they gave off an eerie greenish glow and a thick, heavy cloud of olive smoke hung over them.

The whore did not have time to say one word. She opened her mouth to scream, but before the breath escaped her lungs, a dragon appeared from the roiling cloud.

Zamiot saw big teal eyes, crying tears of blood. The monster opened its mouth. Huge fangs, mossy with foul corruption, bore down on her.

A flaming forked tongue snapped from dragon's mouth and ripped her neck open down to her spine. Her head rolled down at a grotesquely abnormal angle against her shoulder. Already the film of death clouded Zamiot's opened eyes.

Wolfstan snored, oblivious to everything.

The dragon skittered over the dead woman's corpse, slicing straight down her chest to the dark triangle between her legs. The beast gorged on the still-warm viscera, its face a mask of blackened blood and gore.

Sated, the dragon flew to a dark corner. A flash of light, and the princess sat, calmly looking out, licking her lips, and waiting for her husband to awaken from sleep.

### Chapter 25

Jewel of Megara

Tis better far to never feel.

To never love.

To never anguish over loss.

A bitter, unforgiving dross.

A heart of stone

Is all alone

Yet never feels the unrelenting misery

Of its loneliness.

*****

It was like a dream, she thought, looking out of her chamber window. I was such a fool to believe my happiness would go on forever. Such a fool. The Queen bowed her head and wept silently.

*****

Andolin was growing up to be quite a marvelous little boy. The Queen could not help but smile each time she saw him. How could the spirits have blessed her so? The child was witty, bright, intelligent and inquisitive. The King could not be happier. For his part, he promised her half of the kingdom for giving him such a fine and handsome heir.

If she had not known the secret of his birth, she would have sworn that only the blue blood of royalty flowed in his veins. How was it possible that peasant blood pulsed in such a wonderful child? For Perdix had confided in her that the child was from outside the castle walls.

She had seen the filth and squalor of those villages on her few travels over the years. She shuddered, fingering a piece of exquisite silk that had just arrived from the Orient. Her astrologer had visited her only a few moments before.

If only the gods would shine on him always, she thought.

She twisted the exotic material into a tight knot. A fingernail broke, but she took no heed. She stared out the castle window to the bustling scenes of life below.

Even though the sun had barely risen, people were already working. A woman was picking vegetables from the garden inside the castle walls. The blacksmith's hammer was pounding loudly. Cattle lowed. A maid exited the barn with a brimming bucket of milk. A man was trying his best to coax a lively stallion into a stall.

Her fingers twisted the silken knot tighter still.

The stars could only hint at the coming disaster. The portent and warnings were there, but they were cloaked in the hidden mysteries of the future.

Nobody had been able to decode the black omens. She had consulted many wizards and astrologers far and wide. They only looked at her with despairing eyes. What could she do to stop the inevitable?

There was a knock on the door. The pale maid burst in, breathless and as gray as a ghost.

The look on the woman's face caused the Queen to utter, "No."

She ran by the maid, charging for the chambers where the young prince slept.

"He is not here," she exclaimed. "What have you done with him? Tell me. Where is he?"

"He is gone," said Perdix, who sat in a dark corner on a small stool.

"Are you mad?" the Queen cried. "Why didn't you stop this?"

"I tried," said the alchemist. "I came at once, Your Majesty. But the boy's bed was already empty."

"Where is he? Where? You must know," she said.

Perdix rose from the squat stool and stood before the Queen. They heard the bustle and chaos of the King shouting orders to his knights.

A search would begin. Every inch of Megara would be turned over, and no one would rest until the prince was found.

"The King will have our heads for this," said the Queen. "Go out and help them search. Bring the boy back home to me."

"It is no use," said Perdix.

The look in his eyes told the Queen that the alchemist was speaking Truth.

"He is dead," she said flatly.

"He has been stolen," said Perdix. "He is Ichor, now."

The Queen collapsed before him.

"I should have let them kill me," she said.

"Do not speak so," he said.

"To have listened to Dyryke was my downfall. He made it sound so perfect. So easy. Now, look. And I have no one to blame but myself."

"Come," said Perdix.

He handed her the precious stone she had given him.

"This belongs to you," he said. "I return it to its rightful owner. My Queen."

She placed her pale hand inside his. He assisted her up.

"Help me, Perdix. I don't want to die."

### Chapter 26

The Forbidden Kingdom

You cannot hide or ever flee.

No haven's rest is there for thee.

The vampire stalks. He waits. He watches.

And when he strikes you fall ...

Victim to his clutches.

*****

He led the woman to her bed. Opening the top of a metal ring he wore on his index finger, Perdix blew an umber colored crystalline powder in her face. The Queen fell into the alchemist's arms.

"Forgive me, please, Your Majesty," he muttered.

He placed her gently down on the bed. He planted his seed inside her as quickly as possible. It would mean his head if anyone burst into the chamber and discovered him.

He rearranged the lavish garments and covered the still, sleeping monarch. He left the room, careful to look up and down the halls to be sure that no one saw his exit.

Halfway down the hall, Dyryke leaned inside the recess of a closed wooden doorway.

"You think they would have set a guard outside her door," Dyryke said, "but I guess everyone's attention is on finding the missing prince."

"Why aren't you out with them, Dyryke?"

"I might ask you the same question, Perdix?"

"I took a candle and let the drops of wax fall on an unused piece of calfskin atop the unbroken yolk of a sparrow's egg. The wax flew to the ceiling, refusing to bind in any way to the yolk. Before my eyes, the yolk broke of its own accord, oozing a black and bitter-smelling scum."

"I see," said Dyryke.

"I ran to the chambers where the young prince slept, but I was too late."

"We all were," said Dyryke.

"Where are you going?" Perdix asked.

"To hunt for the youngling."

"But it is hopeless."

"Better to make an appearance than suspected later on. Come. We need to make a good show. Then, when the King looks for a scapegoat to hang this horrible thing on, we will be above suspicion. Were we not out with the others scrambling over the countryside? When the King realizes the boy is lost, we all will need strong pleas of innocence."

"Then, let us go at once," said Perdix.

### Chapter 27

Ava

Tis better to live and die an honest man.

Such is the wisdom of fools who never tasted that bloody, forbidden fruit.

*****

They searched for weeks. The King was wild with grief. Peasants and nobles were rounded up, beaten, tortured, and killed, but no one knew anything about the child's abduction.

"O Sire."

It was the Queen. The King was standing by a window, looking out beyond the castle walls at the tranquil, rolling hills of Megara.

"I pray your blessing upon this, your humble servant," she said, taking his bejeweled hand and placing it on her ripe, swollen abdomen."

The crease in the King's forehead deepened. His brows pinched together. He looked intently into his wife's eyes. She smiled.

"We have been given a wonderful gift," she said. "A second chance."

"Another son? A new heir?"

"I cannot promise you a son, for I cannot know whether it is a boy or a girl child," said the Queen, "but the omens point to health and long life."

He kissed the Queen. His hand had never left her stomach, and he felt the baby kick inside its mother's womb.

"It does not matter," said the King. "Boy or girl. If it lives, I will be content."

Within weeks, a healthy baby girl was born. The King allowed the Queen to name the princess.

She called the baby Ava.

### Chapter 28

For Lust and Greed

To sleep so deeply, it seems like death.

It renders deaf and dumb.

Tis better then to stay alert and watch

For Evil comes.

*****

How like the innocent lamb. He sleeps. Yet that smile on his face is false. He believes he is in heaven.

He dreams.

A nightmare.

The fire burns hot. The woman's entrails almost cook beside the fire. She stinks. Even before death began to rot her from the inside out, she stank. Greed and lust black her heart and force her to sell her body for profit and pleasure.

I have no pity for this one.

No pity for any of them anymore.

How strange, for before, the heart that beat within my bosom would have melted at this one's lot.

But no more.

I was weak then. Too weak and innocent.

But no more.

He rouses, this adulterous fool I am ashamed to call my husband.

' _It is for the good of Megara that you must do this.'_

That was all that Father said. Like a parrot, he repeated this line to me over and over. He has no love for me. Only for this ragged kingdom, he is determined to keep together at all costs.

And it has cost him his daughter.

But then, that is not counted as much. I am the girl child. Not the beloved son.

Soon, the King will be dead and moldering in his tomb.

Long live the King.

Hah.

It is a cruel joke the King believes, for he thinks his lineage will carry on by joining me to this drunken slug that lies by this fire, snorting and sleeping the sleep of fools.

I would rather die a thousand deaths than bare his son.

How good it is for me that I won't have to die or bare his child.

The shadows of the sun march forward. He does not know he is breathing his last and fleeting breath.

He does not know.

I think he should.

" _Awake. Arise. You sleepy thing. Stardust fills your eyes. Arise. Arise. Your hour has come. The dead await you at your tomb."_

The spell complete, Wolfstan yawns and opens his eyes.

He sees his smiling wife, and for a half-slumbered second, he thinks he has arrived back at Castle Corlac.

' _Silly boy,' I say._

His eyes widen. He sees the wretched wench beside him.

My claws are sharp and deadly.

They pierce his skin, sinking to the dirt floor that soaks his rancid sweat like a hot knife sinks into a bowl of lard.

### Chapter 29

The Spell

The simpleton dies a thousand deaths.

Imagination blooms.

But when Ichor comes

That is truly a fate unimaginable.

*****

The air was thinner. Xhahari could hear the ragged breathing as Perdix struggled to keep up.

"Let us take a moment," said the young man. "The animal struggles, and so do we."

"Who do you think you're fooling? You have barely broken a sweat, Xhahari. And the animal is fine."

Perdix stopped and looked at the sun. It was high in the sky.

"I know you mean well," said Perdix. "But we must cover as much ground as possible. Do not let the grunting of an old man distress you. I am alright. We must make it to that ridge over there. We will set up camp there and rest with the coming night."

"As you wish," said Xhahari.

They walked for many hours more. At last, Perdix gave the sign that they had found their resting place for the night. A clear brook bubbled over the rocks nearby. The area was sheltered on three sides by large boulders, and the peaks stood proudly all around them.

"It is a place most desolate," said Perdix, gazing about. "Yet, it has a strange, enchanting beauty all its own."

"It is lovely," said Xhahari, who left the site to seek firewood.

Perdix kept busy unpacking the donkey and tying it near the stream where it could graze and drink.

"Eika," he whispered in one furry ear, "do not let down your guard. This is truly an enchanting place, but it is filled with much danger, too."

After they'd eaten a small meal, Perdix looked at Xhahari and said, "Rest the night. I will take first watch."

"Promise me you will not spare me my turn," said Xhahari. "You need your rest as much as I. It would be just like you to let me sleep the night away because you do not wish to rouse me from my slumber."

"Yes," said Perdix, and he made a sign with his hand to Xhahari.

The young man lay before the roaring fire and pulled his tunic about him. Soon, he was fast asleep.

Perdix looked up into the heavens. It was a clear, cloudless night.

"Winter will be coming soon," he muttered, moaning softly at the ache that the cold night air set off in his bones.

He added more wood to the fire. The dancing orange light sent out ghostly shadows dancing over the rocks around them. He got up and led the donkey closer to the fire.

"No sense in your staying in the dark alone, Eika. I need to keep an eye on you, as well."

The fire popped and crackled. Eika was startled. Kicking a rock with its hoof, the donkey uncovered a serpent.

The snake was long and thick and angry at having been disturbed. The donkey brayed, tugged at its rope, and Perdix heard the snap as the tie broke. Eika raced off into the night.

"What?" Xhahari cried.

Perdix lunged toward the lad with a burning stick. The serpent had slithered toward the youth. The snake reared up and sunk its wickedly long fangs deep into Perdix's lower leg.

"Augh!"

Xhahari snatched the flaming torch from Perdix's hand, stuffing the fiery wood straight down the serpent's throat.

It twisted and writhed and died near the glowing ashes that had been scattered in the tussle.

"It is Polceti," Xhahari whispered.

"Sit," Xhahari demanded.

Perdix did as he was told. Already, the old man's skin was clammy and turning gray.

"I will get the ochre-colored pouch," said Xhahari.

The young man whipped out his knife and plunged it into the hot coals. Ripping a band of material from his tunic, he ran and dipped the cloth into the stream. Grabbing the heated knife, Xhahari cut a small slit in his arm. He sucked the blood from his wound and spat it into his hand. He poured yellow powder from the bag and mixed a paste with his finger in the palm of his hand. He smeared it all over the material.

He placed this scrap on the hot blade and set it on a rock. It sizzled and popped. Grabbing a candle from another bag, he lit the wick with a burning stick. He took the blade and reheated it over the candle's flame, murmuring magic words until a green smoke erupted from the mixture, and it turned black.

Perdix was breathing heavily, now. The old man looked like he'd been caught in a thunderstorm. His hair clung to his forehead in wet strands. He wiped the salty sweat from his eyes with a dirty sleeve.

"Finish the spell, Xhahari," he commanded. "Quickly."

The youth took a handful of ashes from the edge of the pit. He slung them at Perdix who was sprinkled with a light coating like snow. He muttered words in a strange tongue.

Xhahari chopped a portion of the dead snake into tiny pieces and chewed the raw meat until it was a bloody pulp. He spat the mass into his palm. He rolled it into a ball with more ashes and placed the glob atop his knife blade with the sticky black conglomeration and flattened the mixture into a thin film. He scraped off the char from the blade into the wound on the old man's leg.

"Winds of the East. Gales from the South. Return the poison back to the serpent's mouth. Let it be done. Let it be done that no harm comes to this bitten one."

The spell took hold of the old man. He fell to the earth, his back arching in such a tight reversed 'U' that his forehead ground in the dirt. The old man's arms spun like pinwheels, and he levitated from the earth, rolling in the air like a gyroscope. A blur of motion and whirring spin. There was nothing left for Xhahari to do but go and bury the pieces of the snake back under the rock where it had been living.

Either the magic would work or the old man would die. Xhahari could not know for sure if the spell had worked until the snake was returned to the earth. Left unburied, the young man knew that his teacher would spin like a top in the air forever.

When the last handful of dirt was patted atop the buried snake, Perdix fell to the ground with a thud.

Xhahari ran to him.

"You have learned your lessons well," said Perdix.

"Will you be alright?"

"We will see," said the old man. "For now, I close my eyes and sleep. If I awaken with the coming of the new day's sun, all is well. If not, go home. You have done your duty. I have lived a long life. There are no regrets."

Xhahari left the old man sleeping by the fire. He made sure that enough wood was on it to last until morning.

He went in search of the donkey.

### Chapter 30

A Hard Climb

The slave. The King.

It matters not to me.

The rich. The poor.

For only this, I see

Humanity's a bright red banquet.

And the table's spread for me.

*****

"Here," said Perdix, handing the sleeping youth a cup of steaming hot liquid.

Xhahari sat up on one elbow and smiled.

"I am glad you were able to get some sleep," said Perdix. "And I see you found Eika. I hope the animal was not too hard to find."

"No," said Xhahari, taking a long drink from the cup.

He spewed the liquid out on the ground.

"What is this foul tasting brew?" Xhahari asked.

Perdix laughed.

"It is just a few herbs, fly dung, and some mushrooms I gathered from the cow piles before we left home."

"I think you must have been rather heavy with the dung, Perdix. That stuff is really wicked."

"I know," he said. "But try to drink it. If you can keep it down, it will be a good thing. The fly dung will heal you inside out. The mushrooms will help us, too. You will find they will give you wondrous powers of observation and hearing. Not to mention, if I got the ingredients mixed in the right measures, it can work as a flying ointment, as well.

"Refill my cup," said Xhahari.

He drank deeply, emptying the cup of the last drops.

"That's what I like about you, son," said Perdix, "you hunger to experience the great experiments that push us farther toward Divine Knowledge."

"I don't know about that," Xhahari said. "But I don't think I'll be kissing fair maidens anytime soon. They'd run away the instant I opened my mouth and gave them a whiff of my stinking breath."

Perdix laughed.

"There will be time for such mischief later, I hope. Come. There is still a hard climb ahead."

### Chapter 31

Ascent into Hell

Time means nothing

When you have nothing but Time to spare.

*****

They began the ascent. Solid rock walls and sheer cliffs left little room to put a foot or grasp a solid handhold. The donkey was securely tied to a tree at the bottom of the mountain.

Xhahari bent backward to survey the rugged peaks.

"I cannot see the Caves of Rotou," he said.

"My dear boy," said Perdix, "you would not be able to see their entrance if it was right here in front of you."

"Then, how do we enter?"

"I am even now saying the spells to pull the curtain from their door. I repeat them silently in my head."

"Good," said the boy. "I would not like to make it all the way to the top only to have you say the way is barred."

"It will not be," said the old man. "Not if I have anything to say about the matter."

"How much of this stuff will we need?"

"All of it and more. Tie as much as you can carry on your back. I will take the rest and tie it to myself."

"But you are . . ."

"Say no more," said Perdix. "I am not dead, yet. Merely up in years. That is all. I am stronger than I look."

He winked at Xhahari.

"Especially," said Perdix, "after the healing balm you applied to my leg got its chance to dance through my veins."

Xhahari laughed.

"As the owl, old man, you are quite a hoot."

"We will try to make it up to that silver ledge that hangs about out. See it, there?"

"Umm."

"That will give us a table to lay out heads upon, out of the gales."

"Gales?" said Xhahari.

"The stormy winds blow treacherously when night falls. I have witnessed it before. If you can find a small ledge to wedge yourself in, chances are, you will make it till the morning."

"We have everything."

"Good," said Perdix. "You first. And remember. Once you start, do not look down. The curse of curses if you do. And I cannot reverse such strong black magic."

"As you say, Master."

### Chapter 32

The Celestial Intelligence

The River of Life.

Maroon and thick.

A sticky syrup.

Nectar of the gods.

*****

They had been climbing for several hours. Xhahari was faithful to keep his eyes glued in front of him, but his ears focused on the sounds the old man was making below him. As long as the youth heard the soft curses and grunts, he knew that Perdix was still just below him on their ascent.

"I pray Polceti is asleep among these rocks," Xhahari yelled. "If he stirs and strikes, there is no way to remedy the poison he will put inside our bodies."

"Polceti does not sleep this high," said Perdix. "Those vipers prefer the balmier climate of the valley. Besides, there is little for them to eat way up here but stones of varying sizes."

"You have a point," said Xhahari.

"Careful, son. We are almost to the ledge. The rocks are deceiving. Kick each one and make sure it holds strong alongside the mountain. It is but another danger of these peaks."

"How many times have you made this climb, Master?"

"Only once before," said Perdix. "I climbed up here with a companion, but I went back down alone."

*****

Many years before.

The bells of the church had been ringing nonstop for several hours. Perdix feared the noise would drive him mad.

"Come," said the young man standing in the alchemist's chamber.

"I cannot," Perdix said. "You know the King wishes to consummate the wedding bed. It has been three days since he and the Queen were wed, and all witnesses who have been standing watch over the royal bed say that nothing has occurred."

Perdix raked his hand through his thick dark curls. His hair was unruly, and strands were always falling down into his eyes.

"I think he is just fearful," said the young man. "Wouldn't you be if you had twenty pairs of spooks' eyes watching every move you and your beloved made under the covers?"

"But they must have proof the couple has coupled. An heir is no small thing, Dyryke. Megara's future depends on it."

"I think the pot is watched too closely to boil," said Dyryke.

"You may have a point," said Perdix. "I think my romantic ardor would pale under so many eyes. I'm glad I'm not the King. Too much stress is not good for the spindle, you know. It makes for a flabby, wilted stem."

"Well," said Dyryke, "you and I will never know that kind of pressure. Thankfully, Venus comes to us, and we can have her under the cover of night or in broad daylight. No one gives a flit who we plant our seed inside of. It comes with the territory of being handsome, virile, and besotting nobodies."

"You left out young and drunken," said Perdix.

"So, I did," said Dyryke. "Which reminds me. Shouldn't we be at least half quashed by this hour of the afternoon?"

"I have work to do," said Perdix.

"And so do I," said Dyryke. "But with the crashing dong of that bell that has been going on all afternoon, how can we be expected to get anything done? Who has died? Who has been born? What the fyke is all the noise about? Do they wish to drive us all insane?"

"I think a cardinal or some such is expected," said Perdix. "Word was received by a messenger who was dispatched. A surprise visit or something."

"Surprise," said Dyryke. "When a messenger is dispatched to give word of imminent arrival, where is the astonishment when he rolls through the castle gates?"

"Well," said Perdix, "Perhaps surprise is the wrong word. It is a spur-of-the-moment trip, but I'm sure His Grace wishes the dung to at least be swept from the drawbridge, don't you?"

"It's never swept clean for me, Perdix. I wouldn't know what it was like not to wade through the swill. And I will never know."

"Stop complaining," said the alchemist. "You know what I am saying."

"I do," said Dyryke.

"Are you going to help me with this experiment or not?"

"What," said Dyryke, "and share the laurels of success? The answer is 'not.' Now, put away your herbs and powders."

"I'm not going drinking with you," said Perdix. "My head already pounds, and my skull threatens to explode."

"Come on, then," said Dyryke. "We'll get away. Just for a few days."

"You do not want to be here when His Grace blesses the holy union?"

"Why would I care? I am not the lucky sot who has been chosen to join as one with the Queen. Neither are you," said Dyryke. "Come on. We'll head out and see what kind of mischief we can get into."

"Dyryke," said Perdix, "you don't even like me. Why on earth would you think I would want to go on a journey with you?"

"Because," he said, "the place where I am going is magical. And did I mention it's the home of the Celestial Intelligence?"

### Chapter 33

The Dare

I would be lying if I said I worship you.

I would be dying if I could not have you.

*****

"Rotou? Are you crazy? That's just a myth," said Perdix.

"How do you know?" asked Dyryke.

"Those stories have been floating around for ages."

"Have you ever been to the caves?"

"No," said Perdix. "Of course not. It's too dangerous. No one who ever attempted to climb those peaks to get to the caves has come back alive."

"Huh. So what. Like you, I am strong and very young," said Dyryke. "I'm going to be the first to come back."

"And what if you're wrong?" asked Perdix.

"I'm not."

"But what if," said Perdix, "you climb to the caves and return. But they are only that."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I'm saying," said Perdix, "what if the caves are just caves. Holes in the mountain. Nothing more. Nothing less. What if no celestial anything lives there? What then?"

"Are you mad? Who cares who lives in those grottoes? I will be the only man on the face of the earth who lived to tell everyone what they looked like. I will be famous. Rich. I dare you to come with me."

"But why ask me? Then, there would be two of us who scaled the mountain and lived to tell about it."

"You are yellow," he said.

"Not at all," said Perdix.

"You are the perfect one to ask, Perdix. You'd shun the glory. You know you would. Stuck up here in your hole in the tower. Mixing and experimenting. It's all you care about. As for me, I'd be singing the wonders of the caves. Of course, I'll never mention the fact that you came along unless I'm pressed. If the King thinks I'm lying, all I have to do is drag you before the realm as my witness."

"I see. A win-win for you."

"Exactly."

"Alright, I'll come along, but not for the reasons of fame like you. If the Celestials are indeed there, I will garner the wisdom of the universe. There's sure to be enough to divide between us two with ample left over. Besides, I'm getting nothing done here. My pounding head refuses to let my brain do any work. Yes. I will go. If only to escape this intolerable bell that threatens to deafen me."

### Chapter 34

The Fall to Earth

Sleep comes at end of day.

Close your eyes and dream.

Dream of me outside your window.

I am never far away.

*****

Near the top of the peak, Dyryke reached for a handhold. The rock gave way, and he slipped and almost lost his footing.

"There is no other way up," said Dyryke.

"Yes, there is," said Perdix, slithering to the other side. "I will go up and send you a cord for you to climb up.

The way was treacherous. Several times, Perdix held all his weight by his fingertips, dangling in midair like an acrobat. At last, he made it to the ledge of the great cave's entrance. Winding his cord around a large boulder, Perdix fed the line down to Dyryke.

Dyryke caught the rope and inched his way toward the ledge.

"Give me your hand, Perdix," he said.

Perdix reached for Dyryke, but instead of allowing him to be pulled up, Dyryke jerked Perdix hard.

He tumbled forward headfirst. Perdix screamed but was saved from sure death because he had tied the other end to his waist. Perdix climbed to the top of the ledge and bellied over the lip. When he stood up, Dyryke was laughing.

Perdix hit the man as hard as he could. Dyryke tumbled backward into the cave's entrance.

Rubbing his jaw, Dyryke said, "I guess I deserve that, but you lived, and I'm first to enter Rotou."

"I will kill you if we get down safely," said Perdix.

"Do I look worried? No. You don't have it in you," said Dyryke. "You're a healer. Not a murderer."

Perdix's fury was dying. The two men stood before the entrance of the great caves. They were as beautiful as they were frightening, as magnificent as they were dangerous.

"My brain tells me my eyes are lying," said Perdix.

Dyryke was like a child. He went rushing through the entry and grasped a beautiful rock column and danced around it in a circle.

"You should not act so," said Perdix.

"And why not? Do you think the Celestials frown upon frolic? I think they would smile and be happy along with me," said Dyryke.

"I do not presume to know how the Celestials might react. Therefore, I will remain solemn and in awe of the magnificence that spreads out before me."

"Frightened old maid," said Dyryke.

Dyryke ran down a vaulted cavern. Sunlight lit his way from a hole in the rock ceiling.

"Come back," Perdix cried.

Dyryke disappeared into a tunnel that veered off to the left.

Perdix stood there looking at dark entry. A brisk wind blew through the cave, pushing him toward the edge of disaster.

"I'm heading back down," he yelled.

His voice bounced off the cave walls, echoing until the sound dissolved into nothing.

"Dyryke!"

Still no answer.

Just as he took one step toward further, a mysterious film unfurled like a curtain from the top of the entrance to the ground. The entrance to the caves was blocked. Perdix could not break through it. He tried cutting it with his knife. He chanted every spell he knew. Nothing worked. There was nothing to do but shimmy down the rope and try to descend down the treacherous slopes.

Seven days later, a disheveled and ragged Dyryke entered the castle gates.
Chapter 35

### House of Cards

You work.

You slave.

You try to save.

For what?

One bite.

I take it all away.

*****

The King declared Corlac would have a festive holiday and a feast to commemorate Dyryke's return. The young man told fantastic tales of the splendorous and magical sights he'd seen. Everyone gathered around him. No one tired of his tales. People were coming in from near and far to see the man who had conquered the mountain.

The glimmer of light from Perdix's window could be seen deep into the night.

There was a knock on the alchemist's door.

"I have waited for you," Dyryke said. "You did not show up, even for free food."

"I have much work to do," Perdix said.

"Work, work," he said. "I swear Perdix, you will grind your body into the ground with all your work. And for what?"

Perdix lit a flame under a beaker filled with a rosy liquid. It bubbled and turned a brilliant hue of lavender.

"Nice trick," said Dyryke. "But does that get you the awe and fervent love of the people? I dare say not. Come with me. The King is serving the finest wine. Everyone is there. There is music, dancing, and so many beautiful women. You may have your pick. Heaven knows I'm totally exhausted."

"I can imagine you've been rutting nonstop since the festivities began," said Perdix.

"Suit yourself," said Dyryke. "I only came up because the Queen asks for you."

"The Queen?"

"Yes, little busy bee," said Dyryke. "Why on earth she misses such a worm when she has me there is a puzzle I cannot solve. But who can explain a woman? Unfathomable creatures, they are. And full of mystery. She asks for you, Perdix. What hold do you have on her? I would give a year of my life to know."

"I have no hold on her," said the alchemist. "She merely asks because I am working on a salve to relieve the pain from a back tooth that has been bothering her."

"A likely story," said Dyryke. "Deceive me if you must. Uncovering the secrets and intrigue of the court has always been one of my favorite pastimes. I will get to the bottom of the Queen's interest in you. And mark my word I will turn it all to my favor."

Dyryke left Perdix sitting on his workbench. The alchemist stared into the flame. He absently rubbed the stubble on his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Dyryke was clever. More subtle than he'd thought. Perdix made up his mind. He would have to watch out for that man. One wrong word and the whole house of cards could come toppling down on Perdix's head.
Chapter 36

### A King's Ransom

Do I confound?

I make no sound.

I come to you on silent wings.

I leave you pale, anemic.

Cold and barely breathing.

*****

"Your Majesty sent for me," Perdix said, standing before the Queen.

"What have you seen? I simply must know?"

"I have been to anyone who might help. I'm afraid that the news I bear is not good news, Your Highness."

"Is there anything that can be done?"

"I think not."

The Queen paced the room.

"I simply must do something. Money is no object. I will put up my jewels, my half of the kingdom," she said.

"A King's ransom means nothing. They do not want lucre, I'm afraid."

"Then, what can I give them to stop this?" she asked. "Here, take this."

She handed him a small locket on a chain.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It holds a lock of my hair and all my children. Take it. You must."

He reluctantly took the locket and put it about his neck.

"It will not help. You know that as well as I," Perdix said. "There is only one thing the barbarians want, and you know what that is."

"The head of the King," she said.
Chapter 37

### Destined to Be Mine

Call it Fate.

Call me obscene.

I come to you

And am a dream.

When you awake,

For sure you will.

Do you feel?

Does your heart still

Inside your bewildered bosom?

*****

Kelda tapped a stick impatiently on a nearby rock.

He looked out over his band. Coarse and dirty. Still, no braver group ever walked the earth. One chewed on a turkey leg. Another worked on his spear. They were only a handful in number, but Kelda knew of no others he'd rather take into battle.

The men were getting restless. It had been many days since their last raid on the village near the Garrako River. If he did not provide them with somewhere to pillage soon, they would leave him.

He knew he had to act quickly. Bending down and gathering up six smooth creek stones, he tossed them into the sand at his feet. The stones fell into an almost perfect circle. He took a dirty root from the pouch he wore about his waist with a leather string. Biting off a chunk, he chewed. A pained look spread over his face. The root was as bitter as gall, but it was the essential ingredient for seeing into the future.

Kelda swayed. He must sit down. The portent of his vision was astounding. If he read the signs correctly, all of Megara would soon be his.

He ordered his men to pile their weapons in a large mound. They were told to strip and go to the nearby field. The men grumbled, but Kelda had led them into many battles. He was sly and smart and ruthless.

They obeyed.

The sky was a blanket of twinkling stars. The air was warm and caressed them with a gentle breeze. The crickets and frogs filled meadow with a chorus of night sounds. The full moon shimmered against the indigo universe. It was one of those pristine nights where it seemed possible to gaze into infinity.

Kelda ordered his men to square off, head against foot. The meadow looked like a patchwork quilt of virile manhood. Precisely at midnight, he blew into his antler horn. It was a jarring sound, shrill and piercing. The crickets stopped chirping. Silence overtook the entire meadow.

In the cloudless sky, a dark shadow bled across the horizon, advancing over the hills, and heading straight for the meadow. Several of the men gasped in astonishment, but none dared to move.

It was a swarm of Ichor.

The sharp prick of fangs, followed by the slurp of greedy tongues and the sucking sounds, like starving infants at their mothers' tits, filled the air. From above, it looked like an orgy of arms and legs squirming underneath winged demons intent on the frenzy of quenching their bloodlust.

Kelda rubbed his neck and smiled.

Soon all the battles that had come before would be but a distant memory.

The castle and Megara were destined to be his.
Chapter 38

### The Clock Ticks

A baby dreams on stardust's velvet bed.

Such a tasty morsel.

How can one resist?

*****

Perdix was in a frantic race against time. Fye had told him long ago there was only one way to ward off this type of oncoming peril. The Ancients had told her so in a dream. He dug through notes and slung jars off the shelf. His hands were a blur of frenetic movement.

The danger was imminent. He asked for Dyryke's assistance. Dyryke turned him down. The King wished to hear the fantastic stories of the caves again.

"But I've listened to your yarns," said Perdix. "They are entertaining, but they are far from the stuff of legend."

"I think the old man grows mossy in his head," Dyryke muttered. "But I didn't say that. Besides, how do I know that you're not planning some devious assassination plot?"

"I would never hurt His Majesty," Perdix said.

"Not him," said Dyryke. "Me."

"The coming peril is too great for me to waste my energies on such a foolish thing."

"What about the laughing powder you slipped into my wine," said Dyryke. "I made a perfect fool of myself in front of the Count. He thinks me daft."

"You must admit," said Perdix, "you were quite entertaining."

"You think me a jester, as well as a fool. No, I won't help," said Dyryke. "I don't know what all the fuss is about. I see no evil omens. I have consulted at least half-a-dozen of the court's wisest sorcerers."

"That lot is a sham," said Perdix. "Their ears are stuffed with wax, and their eyes are gauzed with animal fat."

"You put too much stock in those witches outside the castle walls. Outcasts. Pissants of purgatory. And to think, I once considered you a wise man. I was wrong. Nothing is going to happen, Perdix. Nothing. Your efforts are for naught. A frightened titmouse always crying, 'The tiger comes.'"

Perdix ignored Dyryke's taunts. He worked night and day, determined to stave off the scourge he knew was headed toward Corlac.

On the night Kelda and his band decided to attack, Perdix stood on the top of the western wall. As the sun set, he raised both hands high in the air. When his arms dropped, Perdix bent at the waist.

It was the signal.

The water in the moat that surrounded the castle began to boil and bubble. The air grew charged. Everyone from around the nearby villages was cloistered inside the castle walls. The great drawbridge was drawn up. The castle doors were locked. A pink haze coiled from the north tower of the castle, shooting from a window and covering the entire structure.

As Kelda and his band ran over the hills, they saw nothing but barren wasteland. The men stopped in their tracks. They began arguing with their leader. One man threw a rock, striking Kelda on the head. He fell to the ground. Others threw punches at random, and an all-out brawl began in earnest. A thick cloud of dust rose up around the fighting men. Kelda crawled off behind a bush. He was dizzy and groggy. If he dared to show his face to the crazed gang, they would lop off his head.

When he awoke a few hours later, he gazed at the remnants of his warriors. The battlefield was strewn with body parts. A fight to the death for every single one of them. Kelda shook his head.

How could this have happened?

The extent of the carnage was sickening to his battle-hardened stomach.

What had possessed his men to do this?

Kelda's shoulders slumped. He was just about to give over to dying despair when a strange pink haze appeared on the horizon. When it dissolved, the great castle walls shimmered before his eyes like a heat mirage.

"Corlac," he muttered.

What great wizard was responsible?

Kelda turned toward the towering structure. He looked like a tiny speck topping the far hill, slowly making his way toward the castle's gate.
Chapter 39

### Free Grog – It's on Me

The cold moonlight shines upon your skin,

And I will come on whispering winds.

They will not rally when they hear your screams.

They stay inside and shiver,

Glad I have not come for them.

*****

When Kelda walked across the drawbridge, there seemed to be a great festival going on. The musicians were playing quick, happy tunes. The peasants were singing and dancing. There was a great stand built in the center of the grounds. Sitting proudly on the top row was the King and Queen. Kelda noticed a young, bewildered-looking man sitting in the middle of the royal couple.

He was obviously a commoner. The fine robe he wore did not fit. The look on the young man's face told Kelda that he was miserable.

"Is this the wizard who destroyed my men and saved the castle?" Kelda said to no one.

"His name is Perdix," said a handsome young man standing near Kelda. "Look at him. He looks as uncomfortable as a lamb in a lion's cage."

"You dislike our friend who sits exalted high?" asked Kelda.

"Hah. The man is a fake. A fraud. A charlatan. And he fools the Queen into thinking he's a great man. Convinced her he's performed some kind of miracle that saved the realm. I've been here the whole time, my friend. I can tell you nothing happened. But look at them. She throws herself at his feet like he is a god."

The young man spat on the ground.

"I agree," said Kelda. "He appears to be but a minnow, and a scrawny one at that."

"Let me buy you a pint of grog," said the friendly young man.

"But this is a festive celebration. Grog is free," said Kelda.

"A minor detail. Come. The grog's on me."
Chapter 40

### The Lucky Man

When you lie down and say your prayers

Remember,

I take no heed.

For I have needs.

A demon thirst

A pale cold blast,

I drink my fill.

And leave the graveyard littered.

*****

"The King's a lucky man," Kelda said.

They were halfway through their third cup of grog. The handsome man sharing his company was as chatty as a magpie. Kelda had learned much.

His eyes kept wandering toward the Queen. She was a beauty. In fact, Kelda thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Her skin is so soft and pale," the warrior said.

"Mine would be too if all I had to do was stay holed up in my finely furnished chamber and count my jewels."

"I cannot take my eyes off her," Kelda said. "It is almost as if she has cast a spell on me, and I am besotted by love."

"Tipsy on grog is more like it. My name's Dyryke. Call me a former favorite of her Royal Fickledness."

"You do not speak as a loyal subject," said Kelda.

"My loyalties lay with me."

"I see," said Kelda.

Dyryke looked up at Perdix sitting awkwardly between the royal couple. He grit his teeth and drained the grog from his cup.

"The little wizard looks as if a turd is lodged and won't come out," said Kelda.

He laughed heartily at his joke.

"He is not a wizard. Not an alchemist, either," said Dyryke.

"If he is a fraud, why is he sitting up there and you down here with me?"

"Fyke," said Dyryke. "I don't know. I am too drunk to untangle your riddles."

"But not too drunk to hatch the egg and watch it fall to earth and crash into a million pieces?" Kelda said over the edge of his cup.

Kelda watched as the drunken Dyryke attempted to make sense of what he'd just said.

"Do you want to see the miserable one wallowing in ashes and ruin?" Kelda said.

"Of course," said Dyryke. "I'd like nothing better."

An oily grin spread across Kelda's dirty, bearded face.

"And you can throw in crowned partridge while you're at it, too."

"Ahh," said Kelda. "That is an excellent idea."
Chapter 41

### The Long Night

How pale you look

The neighbors say.

You turn away.

The mark of Cain you bear.

*****

"We will sleep on this ledge and make our way to the entrance of the caves tomorrow," said Perdix.

Xhahari spread a coarse blanket against the edge of the small hollow in the rocks.

"Do you think it will rain?" he asked.

"The clouds bank high. They are heavy with moisture. I think the chances are good we will get good and drenched tonight."

"Then, let we will eat and settle in for a long night."

"A long night, indeed," said Perdix.

Xhahari chewed the hard dried bread. It did little to kill the hunger pangs that clawed the lining of his stomach.

"Tell me more," said the youth.

"More?"

"You have witnessed so many things in your life, Master. The lessons you have learned will benefit me. Tell me more."

*****

The blanket spell had worked better than Perdix could have imagined. He was relieved that the danger had passed. All the omens revealed this truth. But he loathed the gratitude the Queen now thought she owed him.

"I am honored, Your Majesty," Perdix said. "But I do not feel it is my place to sit on the bench with the King and Your Highness. I would feel like a hog sitting between the holy seraphs."

"Nonsense," said the Queen. "I am forever in your debt. You have answered my call so many times. The King is indebted to you, as well. He desires your presence during the great festival. It is the least we can do for you."

"I am your humble servant," Perdix said, bowing his head and returning to his chamber.

The whole day had been an ordeal, but somehow Perdix had gotten through it. When he returned to his workbench that night, it was with a sigh of relief that he busied himself with his latest experiment.

He was deep in a trancelike state when the sound of a woman's scream shattered his concentration and completely destroyed the spell he was in the middle of completing.

*****

"When I ran down the hallway, I bumped into Dyryke," said Perdix. "It was the middle of the night. I couldn't figure out why he would be haunting those corridors at that ungodly hour. He had a strange look on his face. Little did I know, Xhahari, that my adversary was mortally wounded."

"But why was the Queen murdered? No one has ever been able to give me a reason that makes good sense."

"You are wise beyond your years. The Ichor came for the Queen, but Dyryke killed her before the demon could make her one of Evil's clan."

"And the Ichor killed him because of that?"

"I believe so," said Perdix.

"Then, Dyryke is a hero," Xhahari said.

"Far from it," the alchemist said. "Dyryke was the reason the Ichor ended up in the Queen's chamber in the first place."
Chapter 42

### The Raging Torrents

You think your locks and walls protect you.

*****

The storms blew in just before dawn. Perdix and Xhahari were soaked. There was nowhere to hide from the torrential sheets of water that poured down. The gales whipped the rain inside the little grotto with hurricane force. There was nothing to do but tuck their heads down and wait out the storm.

Xhahari's teeth chattered. They were chilled to the bone. Perdix began coughing. Xhahari prayed earnestly that the old man would survive the blast.

"We should have stayed home," he muttered.

It was only a passing thought that sprung from his lips before he could stop it. But Xhahari was certain the softness of his voice and the roar of the wind prevented the old man's ears from discerning what he'd said.

"No," said Perdix. "Fate decreed that this journey be made."

He did not raise his head, and Xhahari's heart dropped to hear the rattling cough that came at the end of the old man's words.

At last the winds abated. The rains ceased.

"We must make haste," the old man said.

The sun was shining brilliantly. Both men were blinded by its radiant glare. They tied their bundles to their backs and began the steep climb. Neither man said a word, concentrating instead on the arduous progress up the mountain peak.

At last, they reached the ledge to the entrance of Rotou.

"That cough threatens to strangle you, Master," said Xhahari. "Don't you have a spell to stop it?"

"I am alright," said Perdix.

He reached beneath his tunic and pulled the vial out that was tied to the string around his neck.

"I want you to take this," Perdix said, starting to untie the knot of the string.

"No, Master," said Xhahari.

"But you don't know what it is," said the old man.

"I know exactly what it is," said Xhahari. "I am not in need of it. But if that cough worsens, you may well have to drink it to live."

"But I am an old man who has lived a very good life," said Perdix.

"And I am a young one who may need the help of a wiser soul to guide me out of these caves."

"I will keep it for you, then," said Perdix.

Xhahari smiled.

"I remember you said these caves had a curtain that prevented you from entering," said Xhahari.

"They did," said Perdix. "But it seems that the veil has been lifted. Careful, son. Be very careful. I do not trust this place."

"I will practice caution, Master. Here. Let me take some of the load from you. Your back is bent and mine barely feels the load."

Xhahari took some of the bundles from Perdix and tied them onto his back.

"These caves take your breath away," said Xhahari.

"Remember. Do not be deceived by their beauty. They are like the polceti. You must be very careful. Use the utmost caution."
Chapter 43

### The Library

It does no good to fight.

To think that you can flee.

Every living soul

Will soon belong to me.

*****

They had traveled a great distance into the interior of the caves. Xhahari was delighted when they stumbled upon a large chamber filled with crystals of all shapes and colors and sizes.

"Look, Master," he said, "it is the library of The Celestial Intelligence."

"You may be right, Xhahari."

"Let us harvest all that we can carry," said Perdix.

Xhahari gleefully began picking up beautiful specimens by the handfuls. Perdix was choosier. He made his way to the far corner of the grotto, bent down, and picked up four crystals – one red, one yellow, one green, and one blue.

"Master," Xhahari said, "I must have that one."

Xhahari was standing on a small ledge near a large crystal that hung about six feet from the ground. His fingers just grasped the beautiful stone when the rock he was standing on gave way with a sickening cracking sound.

"No," Perdix yelled.

It was too late. The lad disappeared over the side of the abyss. Perdix scrambled to the edge and looked down into the bottomless pit of blackness. Xhahari was nowhere to be seen.

He dropped his forehead on the cool rock. A racking cough tore through his body.

"It is hopeless," he cried.

Perdix's sobs echoed off the walls of the empty chamber.

"I cannot do this anymore."

He groaned loudly as his stiff joints slowly obeyed the commands of his brain. His steps were slow and painful. When he came to the intersection that led out of the cave, he mistakenly took the wrong tunnel. He failed to notice.

He walked several hundred yards when he came upon a large chamber with a sky hole. A clear green reflecting pool shimmered before him. The sun shone on the glassy surface. Perdix came to the edge and looked at his reflection.

A wrinkled, gray face stared back at him.

"I am tired," he said softly, rippling the still water with his finger. "Just so tired."

How inviting it looked. How wonderful, he thought, to let its crystal waters drown all sorrows.

One more step and it would all be over.

He raised his foot and leaned forward.

A man's laughter bounced off the walls of the cavern.

The old man's foot stopped its trek in midair.

Before he even turned around, Perdix knew who it was. Nobody else in all the world laughed like that. It was the mocking chuckle of Dyryke.
Chapter 44

### The Healer

There is a knock upon your door.

Friend or foe?

You do not know.

And if you open

Who comes in?

A little child?

Bloodsucker?

Friend?

*****

"I knew that one day Fortune would abandon you," he said. "And I thank my lucky stars I'm here to witness it."

"You look well," said Perdix.

"And you look like scite."

"I feel like it, too," Perdix said.

"Let me remedy that," Dyryke said, rushing the old man with lightning speed. "I will gladly give to you what you have given me."

He tackled Perdix to the ground and opened his mouth wide and glistening white fangs shown sharp and deadly. His eyes were crescents of malevolence. The Ichor was strong and the bloodlust burned fiery hot.

Great drops of saliva dropped from Dyryke's watering mouth on the old man's face. They burned into Perdix's skin like acid.

The old man screamed. A ragged cough tore from his lungs.

"Weak and dying," Dyryke yelled in Perdix's face. "What a pity. I must act fast before the Life Force ebbs from your sputtering heart. You are no good to me if you are dead."

The blood pounded in Perdix's skull. What to do? He must think of something fast.

He felt the vice-like grip of Dyryke's pallid claws chew into the muscles of his arms. There was no escape.

The old man's hand trembled. He reached for the pouch where the magic crystals were hidden. He fumbled with the knot, spilling the crystals upon the stone floor.

"Ahh," said Dyryke. "I see you've found the library of The Celestial Intelligence. But it is hopeless. You will never destroy me."

With that Dyryke stepped back, bent over double and stood up. Perdix looked up from where he lay on the ground and yelped in surprise.

"Fye," whispered Perdix.

"Do not be alarmed, dear friend. It is really me. I am content to dwell here, Perdix. In fact, I've never had such a handsome lover before." she said.

"Fye," he said.

The racking cough returned. Perdix put his arm up to his mouth. When he dropped it, thick blood stains smeared his sleeve.

It was too much for the vampire to stand. Fye's face dissolved into thin air, and Dyryke's evil eyes bore into the alchemist. He kneeled closer, and Perdix felt the vampire's hot breath on his face.

"Do not think I was fooled by your little trick," the old man said. "Fye was gone the instant you swallowed her. A thousand times a thousand I have wished it was not so. I cannot change the past. I can only live with my regret."

"Regret nothing, old man. The witch will never die. I owe her a great debt. Without her magic blood, the spell that brings me life would have been in vain."

"I am an old fool," said Perdix. "But I would rather have the hag beside me now than think of her locked inside the purgatory of your wicked heart."

"But she would die, you fool."

"And she would then know peace," said Perdix.

"Peace is for simpletons who do not know better."

Dyryke laughed again.

"I am just a simple man," said Perdix. "If that condemns me, so be it. But I would rather lay this body down and sleep in peace. The tasks that are before me do not bring me joy. There's murder in my heart. The Ichor I must kill so Man may live."

"Do you think I tremble at your words? Hah. You are a healer not a killer, remember?"

Dyryke swiped across Perdix's face. A jagged claw-like nail caught the lid of Perdix's yellow eye. Tears flowed profusely.

As Perdix let the yellow tears fall into his palm, Dyryke went for the kill. He ripped the high collar of the old man's tunic and jumped back.

"I should have known," said Dyryke.

It was only a second's hesitation, but it was all the time the alchemist needed. He grabbed the yellow crystal and cupped it in his palm with the yellow tears.

"Perdix," a woman's voice said from Dyryke's lips.

"Fye," Perdix whispered.

"Don't do it," the woman's voice intoned.

Perdix shut his eyes and threw the crystal at the Ichor. It exploded on impact, turning the vampire into a pile of dry, gray dust. The old man gathered the remaining crystals and turned to leave.

He halted at the sound of clapping hands.

"Well done," said the male voice.

"Andolin," breathed Perdix.
Chapter 45

### You

No finer banquet spread

Than that of pulsing veins.

The delicate nectar drips down my throat.

So beautiful that scarlet stain.

*****

"You needn't think those rocks will work on me," said Andolin.

"I don't think anything," said Perdix, chanting a spell in his mind.

The old man stood before the Ichor. He looked old and totally exhausted. He bent his head and coughed. This time, blood splattered the front of his layered tunic.

Andolin stared at the droplets. The tip of his tongue licked his bottom lip. It was all the distraction that Perdix needed.

He broke the locket from its delicate chain and thrust his hand into the pouch. Without looking, Perdix knew his fingers had grasped the correct crystal. It burned inside his palm.

The alchemist flung the blue crystal wrapped with the chain that held the locket with the locks of hair the Queen had given him so long ago. Andolin flung up his arm to ward off the deadly thing, but it was no use.

The Ichor threw his head back and roared.

It was a sound like nothing Perdix had ever heard, and the old man cupped his ears against the deafening noise.

He looked left and right, and seeing the coast was clear, bolted for the exit to the caves.

Just as he was squatting down to grasp the edge of the ledge, he felt a touch on the back of his shoulder.

"One finger would send you plummeting to your death, dear alchemist."

"Oh, god," Perdix gasped. "It's you."

### Chapter 46

Stupid Fool

To soar above the rooftops

Beneath the pale silver of moonlight.

There is nothing more beautiful or so promising.

A feast awaits and you are mine for the taking.

*****

"Don't be in such a rush to leave, my friend," said the sultry voice.

"I should have guessed," said Perdix.

"You should have, but age has dulled your senses," Ava said.

"You look lovely, my child," he said.

A racking series of coughs overtook the old man. This time, the cough was genuine.

"I think I want to have you around for awhile," she said. "But it seems, your time is short."

"Ava," he said, "I tried to save you."

"It was not enough."

"You're right," he said. "I am sorry. But I can give you peace."

"What makes you think I want it? Strip off your rags. You aren't going to surprise me like you did the others."

Perdix began to strip off the first layer of rags. A fit of coughing overtook him, and he doubled over. Out of Ava's line of vision, his hand jerked the string, and it broke. He held the vial in his hand, pulled out the cork, and let the liquid slide down his throat. In one move, he leaped off the ledge and sailed out into the air and down the mountainside.

Ava shook her head.

"Stupid fool," she said.
Chapter 47

### Rough Landing

Grim.

The pallid flesh

When mortal breath abandons.

Red and Rosy,

Pretty posie.

Crimson so becomes you.

*****

His body bounced downward for thousands of feet. He landed in some scraggly brush at the foot of the mountain. He should have been torn to pieces, battered to a pulp, dead the instant he crashed the first time into the sheer rock wall.

He blinked, and his vision cleared. A hand reached to his forehead, snagging a lock of jet black hair. The hand was young and unblemished. The hair lacked one strand of gray.

The vial had worked. Perdix was young again.

As he laid on the ground, the laughter bubbled from his soul.

"What are you doing, stranger? Are you overcome with madness?"

It was a shepherd.

"No," said Perdix. "I was just enjoying the beauty of your little valley. And thinking how great it is to be alive."

"You speak as the madman," said the shepherd. "Come. I will fix you some vittles by my fire. I will fill your stomach, then, perhaps your words will make more sense."

Perdix got up. His legs were strong and the muscles rippled on the back of his shins.

"Thank you for your kind offer," the alchemist said. "But I must be on my way."

"Where to?" asked the shepherd. "There's nothing here but scrub brush and rocks."

"And demons that haunt your days and nights."

"Aye," said the shepherd. "Those we've plenty of."

The shepherd turned to look at one of his bleating sheep.

"What do you smell, lass? A wolf? A bear?"

Looking back, he saw the tiny silhouette of a young man disappearing over the crest of a distant hill.

To: Jennifer.
**About the Author**

Joni Green is the author of the Cupid/Archer mystery series, as well as other historical novels, dark paranormal romance, and cozy mysteries. She also writes and illustrates children's books.

She makes her home online at www.jonigreen.com.

You can connect with Joni on Twitter @JG_jonigreen, on Facebook at www.facebook.com/JoniGreenauthor, and you can send her an email at jgreenbooks@gmail.com.
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SECRETS AND LIES: THE MARK OF A MAN.

THE MAKING OF A KILLER.

Also by JONI GREEN

Murder at the Buy-Right – A Cozy Mystery

Secrets of Beddelac Island - A Cozy Mystery

Beastly House (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 1) – 1920's Murder Mystery

Cupid's Archer (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 2) – 1920's Murder Mystery

The Dust of Death (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 3) – 1920's Murder Mystery

Ashes of Yesterday (A Cupid/Archer Mystery 4) – 1920's Murder Mystery

Pale Moon Over Paradise (Book 1) – 1950s Jim Crow Era

Five Miles to Paradise (Book 2) – 1950s Murder Mystery

Songs of the Night – Civil War Romance

The Bad Room – Horror

In the Belly of the Beast – Dark Paranormal Romance

Behind The Smile – Collection of Short Stories

Children's Books by Joni Green

Let's Count to 10

The Alphabet is Easy

One Raindrop

The Magic Trunk

THE END

