B.O.S.S. — Ambrosia, Part 13

Here’s the 13th part of Two hunters, to be concluded next week.  (Well think if it as a season finale).



Two Hunters Part 13, Capture.

Jamgled’s eyes flitted open, adjusting her eyes to a low lit room.  Her muscles in her limbs ached, her arms stretched over her head and bound by rope, and thick steel manacles clutched her legs tightly.  Her head swam against a dull pressure in her ears.  I’m underground.

The room had four stone walls, an iron door, and a single torch kept it from plunging into darkness.  She struggled against the chains, finding them secure.

Been in worse.   Reminds me of my first date.

The room had shelves chock full of tools and equipment Jam already knew the use for.   Most vampires in nests used such devices to draw blood from their victims rather than biting them.  Vampires may have been undead, but they were susceptible to disease, particularly so.

Jamgled found herself wishing she actually caught colds.

The steel door’s view hole slid open, clinked shut, and the door swung ajar.  A man walked in, tall, raven haired, and had the stink of vampirism about him.   From Culvir’s notes and his sense of presence.   This was Helos, the head of the show.

“I apologize for the rough treatment, Miss Gotleg, but your reputation precedes you.” Helos said, settling next to her.

“Too much of a coward to face one woman face to face?”

“To be blunt: yes.” Helos’ smile fell off his face.  “You are a very scary woman, and I am not one for open conflict.  Delicate nerves you see.”

“You won’t feel a thing.” Jam narrowed her eyes.   “I’ll lop your head off in one swing, since I’m such a good sport.”

“You aren’t really helping your case you know.” Helos brought a hand to his throat.  “But I’m not here to hurt you.  I only brought you here because it is our most secure room.   We’re… in transition.”

He pressed his lips together, considering something.  He paced over to a shelf and plucked knife from the shelf.  He turned the blade in the low light and replaced it.

“This is your first and last chance for a clean death, monster.” Jamgled spat.  “You touch me with that shit and I’ll be cramming them up your ass when–”

“Will you please, shut up.” Sonnie’s voice broke her thoughts.  He strolled into the room, bringing light into it.   His robes caught every stray scrap of torchlight and drew it in.  He raised a hand, releasing a marble sized ball of light  that floated to the ceiling.  It made contact, rolled about, and settled providing the room a comfortable sort of daylight.

Jam winced.  This was the plan after all, he’s playing traitor.

“This woman.   Is dangerous.  You’re better off killing her.” Sonnie pointed a dismissive finger at her.   “She will find a way to break out, and you will lose men trying to contain her.  Keeping her disarmed will not save you.”

Hey.   Who’s side are you on?  Still.   Knows how to sweet talk a gal.

“I am aware.” Helos waved off the concern.  “Let her loose.”

Jamgled’s eyes widened.

“Excuse me?” Sonnie glared at the vampire.  “She will kill you.   Then the rest of your men in kind.”

“Mr.  Daie.   For what reason are you here?” Helos picked up another tool, inspecting it.

“I’m looking for a compromise.   All things have a right to live, even Vampires.” Sonnie folded his arms.   “We can strike a deal.   There’s plenty of criminals we can provide.   Justice would be served and they live a comfortable, empty life.   No different than a prison.”

”Your logic is flawed.   Vampires will never accept that.   The Lich Lords will never accept that.  The population of vampires that find your plan appealing, are in the minority.” Helos smiled.  “So I need her to make them, the majority.”

“Wha–?  Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Jamgled raised a brow.

“I am.   I need you to kill all that try to stop you.   Those that run.   Don’t chase them.” Helos turned holding a key.

This is the guy that wounded Culvir?   What’s his angle?

Helos offered the key to Sonnie, the light-wielder took it, wearing a deep frown.

“There’s quite a few of them.  You two will have to work together if you plan to survive.”

“This wasn’t our deal.” Sonnie growled.   “You said you would take Nell and we would be even.”

“And this is my response to your treachery.” Helos stepped back, leaning on a shelf.  “Did you honestly think I would not have the foresight to look into your past.   You would never give me Miss Draadich, not willingly at least.”

Sonnie tensed, teeth clenching, he worked at undoing Jamgled’s bonds.

“Damn knots,” Sonnie muttered curses under his breath.   The ropes hold on her right hand broke loose, and his hand clenched her wrist.

Clever dog.  Jamgled maintained a frown.   Her swords sat at Sonnie’s hip, pulled out slightly for an easy draw.   Her other hand was free.   She just needed a leg, and it would be all over.

Helos went back to his tools, inspecting, turning, then replacing them.

Sonnie pointed away from the door in a way only Jamgled could see.

Hammer and Anvil.   I like how this guy thinks.

The lock of her left foot popped free, her hands came free finding their way to her swords.   Sonnie hurried towards the door, chanting, the globe of light snapped back to his hand and expanded into a flash of light.   The room bathed in the warm embrace of the creator.

Jam turned and whirled, blades extended.   One aimed high enough to decapitate the other to cleave him at the waist.  The blades sunk into his form, sending a black spray  of gore towards Sonnie, and splattered on a hastily formed shield of light.

Two deep gashes heralded their sneak attack but Helos stood firm.   He paused, placed the tool he held, and turned.   A intangible skeletal form lingered beneath torn away fabric and flesh.  A skeletal grin where his jaw should have been.

Jamgled’s eyes widened.   Realization trickled in.  This is no vampire.   He’s a High Lich.

For the first the first time Jamgled could remember, she tasted fear.

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