Memento Mori: 6

The tip of the Hunter's cold silver blade touched the edge of the the boy-thief's throat, a fingertip from the vampire's grinning lips. "Leave him, mula," she said, her heart a cold dead thing in her breast. Fool woman, idiot! she cursed herself. To run into battle expecting but one thing so that I am blinded by what is before me! I am no hunter but a pikeman instead! "Leave him and face me. Unless it is that you are afraid."

The vampire pulled her lips from the boy's throat. "Well, my goodness," she purred and licked her lips, flicking bright-red blood onto the boy's cheek. "It's been a hundred years since I saw one of you, a little manchilde brat. He had ... wonderful taste. I wonder if you do."

"Come here to find out. But leave him be." The Hunter raised the blade of the bastard sword slightly. "The chiavala is of no concern here."

"But that's where you're wrong! Look at him." The vampire bit down on Jim's neck again, and he cried out weakly. "Men are wonderful at this age, wouldn't you agree? So tender and ripe. Bursting. You don't fool anyone, manchilde, I see the hunger in your eyes."

The Hunter turned the sword and tensed visibly, making sure the vampire saw the glimmering blade move. The boy had lost some blood, but he would live if she could break the vampire's grip upon him. She had to break it now. "If that is what you see, then you will not see ... this!" she cried as she lunged at the vampire, thrusting at the vampire's face with the bastard sword.

But as she moved, she brought the spelled wooden sword in her right hand down, away from the vampire's line of sight. Just as she had hoped, the vampire shoved Jim at the Hunter and cut to the Hunter's right to avoid the silver blade. Nimbly, the Hunter turned the bastard sword so that Jim struck its flat edge as he fell, then danced around his body and swung hard and quick with her right hand. The wooden blade of the short sword bit deep into the vampire's shoulder, making her squall like an infant and fall back toward the throne room. "You see nothing," the Hunter muttered as she hastily sheathed the wooden blade and turned her attention to the boy.

Jim's eyes were fluttering and his face was as gray as dusk, but he was yet alive. "Jim," the Hunter hissed as she pulled the headscarf from her hair. She had no time to even cringe at the thought of walking about with her head uncovered. No decent Romni would be seen in public without her head covered, but likely no one she met within this chamber of horrors would be Rom. Teeth bared in a grimace of frustration, the Hunter pressed the scarf to the gaping wound in Jim's neck to stem the gushing flow of his lifes's blood. "Jim!" she hissed again, but the boy lay twitching on the floor, still only semi-conscious. She understood the reaction, but she had no time for empathy. She smacked him hard on his face to awaken him, and his eyes snapped open and stared at her in terrified awe.

"Get up!" she snapped, hauling him to his feet with one hand. The other held the bastard sword ready, waiting for the vampire's next attack. "Run to your guild. Tell Linvail what has happend." When Jim did not move and continued to stare at her with glazed eyes, she smacked him again and shoved him toward the stairway. "Fly, you fool! Go!"

She did not see whether Jim complied with her demand, for the vampire came at her again, her hands hooked into claws. "How dare you!" she screeched. She snaked one hand past the Hunter's sword and ripped a tear into the Hunter's leather coat. "You cut me! No one has dared to cut me in an eon!"

"Then you have lived a soft life!" The Hunter parried the vampire's attacks to drive her backward. She needed room to move to defeat this foe, and there looked to be plenty in the throne room. "Give over, mula, for you cannot defeat me!"

"There isn't a manchilde brat born whose liver Ulvaryl can't eat for a teatime snack!" the vampire spat back.

"Ulvaryl, is that what you are called? Marvelous, I so enjoy opponents who refer to themselves in third person!" The Hunter lunged again, and the tip of her sword sliced a ribbon in Ulvaryl's stomach. Another scream brough the vampire forward, but again she met the edge of the Hunter's blade and fell back. At the threshold of the door, Ulvaryl cast a look over her shoulder, squalled again, then turned tail and ran into the room. But instead of running across the rug, she gave a greap leap that sent her sailing over it.

The Hunter leaped as well, catching Ulvaryl in a flying tackle, her right arm wrapped around the vampire's neck, the other held aloft to keep the sword free. They came down square in the rug's center, atop a picture of what seemed to be a bolt of lightning. "No!" the vampire shrieked, "You fool! Let me up! Let me up now!"

The Hunter ignored the screech, as well as the odd loud click that rang through the hall. Scrambling up to pin the vampire to the floor with her knees, the Hunter raised her blade to strike Ulvaryl's head from her neck.

A great flash blinded the Hunter's light-sensitive eyes a moment before a white-hot bolt of energy seared through her, pulling a scream from her throat. Below her Ulvaryl also screamed, for the bolt traveled through the Hunter to take her as well. Every nerve in the Hunter's body spasmed, seizing every muscle. Lightning? How- she thought before her mind stopped working. The hand that held the sword flew open, and it clattered to the rug as the Hunter collapsed backward, hard against the floor. Another click sounded, and another bolt of lightning flew from the bracket on the wall, burning her again.

"Not quite the result I wanted, but I'll take it," Ulvaryl breathed, grabbing the Hunter by her dark hair to draw her close. "I did say I would eat your liver. Let's see if female manchilde is as delicious as male!" The malice in the hideous voice jarred the Hunter back to her senses. She managed to open her eyes in time to see the vampire's clawed hand reaching for stomach. The bastard sword lay on the floor beside her, just at the edge of the lightning design but she could not move her arms. Her body throbbed with pain so great she barely felt the vampire's claws cut her skin, curling as they entered her.

Up! the Hunter ordered herself. Her fingers twitched. The sword still lay out of her reach, and the pressure of the vampire's fingers as they dug into her body sickened her. Up! You are Rom, not gadje, and it is not for a Romany chey to die on her knees! Up!

Her left hand jerked, but Ulvaryl was laughing again and paid no mind. The Hunter's blood poured over her fist, and she even dared to lean down to lick it from her knuckles. Clumsily, the Hunter managed to get her left hand on the hilt of the wooden sword and pull it from its sheathe at her left hip. "Khantino mula" the Hunter breathed, and suddenly her nerves realigned. She could move again.

"Do you really want to die with that mongrel language on your tongue, bratling?" Ulvaryl sneered -- and her cruel, twisted face went slack as the Hunter brought the wooden blade up and cut deep across the vampire's wrist. It was not a clean cut, slicing through only half the arm, but the vampire screeched and released the Hunter. She fell hard onto the floor, clutching her wounded arm and staring at the Hunter in disbelief. "You bi-" she cried as another bolt of lightning flew from the wall and toasted her.

Somehow, the Hunter managed to struggle to her feet without setting off the trap again. Her abdomen was bleeding, but the vampire had not done more than cut her badly. She hooked the toe of one boot under the blade of the bastard sword and gently kicked it up, catching it deftly in her right hand. As she switched the weapons to their proper hands, she steeled herself to leap away from the lightning trap to what she hoped was a safe spot on the rug.

"No! Don't move!" a man's voice cried, halting the Hunter before she could move. She looked over her shoulder and saw an unfamiliar man in brown leathers on the edge of the rug, at the far end of the room opposite the great stone throne. In his hands was a short bow, an arrow held to the string. A hood obscured his face, and when he spoke the Hunter detected a slight but unfamiliar accent. "If you move you face another danger! The entire rug is trapped! If you move again--"

"Shut up, worm, and keep your place!" the vampire's screech interrupted him.

The man ignored her. "The pictures tell what traps lie below your feet! They are spells! Move with care!" He brought the bow up and aimed the arrow at the vampire, who had risen. The cut on her arm was regenerating already. She was ready for another go. Desperately, the Hunter looked down and saw woven into the rug on her right a green cloud and on her left a cheetah's head. A poisonous cloud, she guessed, and an attack of animals. Damn me, I need to breathe but likely she does not!

Before the Hunter could decide which danger she wanted, the vampire leaped. On reflex, the Hunter crouched and threw herself back. She managed to get her legs up between her and the vampire just as they landed together, hard, on the floor just beside the picture of the cheetah's head. A click made the Hunter grimace. With a grunt that was more a scream, she kicked her legs up, sending the vampire flying over her head toward another part of the rug.

A blue ball of energy shot from the bracket, coalescing into the shape of a barking, snarling wolf. Before she could reach her feet, the beast grabbed her calf in its jaws, biting through the leather to sink its teeth into her flesh. It ripped a large chunk from the Hunter's leg, before it backed away, its muzzle dark and matted now with her blood. Two arrows flew past the Hunter's arm and burried themselves in the wolf's side just as she brought the bastard sword down and cleaved its head in two. She looked up at the man at the end of the rug and saw him grinning grimly at her as he took aim again at a new target.

Another click sounded, and the Hunter turned in time to see Ulvaryl huddling on the rug to protect herself from a blast of ice and snow spraying from the bracket. Ignoring the agony in her leg and torso, the Hunter flipped the short sword over to grasp its wooden blade. With all her strength, she hurled it at the crouching vampire. It struck the vampire just above her left breast as the cone of cold spell ended. It hit with a satisfying thunk.

Ulvaryl turned and locked her mad gaze onto the Hunter. She slowly pulled the short sword from her breast and again bared her fangs as she charged across the rug.

"Kuhl," the Hunter muttered just as the vampire tackled her, the hilt of the short sword in her fist. They fell again to the floor, struggling and kicking at one another, but this time Ulvaryl had gained the advantage, pinning the Hunter to the floor with her knees. As the Hunter locked her left fist around the vampire's hand to keep the short sword from reaching her flesh, Ulvaryl grabbed the Hunter's right arm to keep the bastard sword away from her. Arrow after arrow rained around them, missing them by several handspans. There was another click as the trap triggered, and another ball of blue energy shot across the rug, transforming into a leopard that headed toward them.

The Hunter looked at the leopard, then up at Ulvaryl, who was frantically dividing her gaze between both foes. Their eyes locked, and the Hunter felt a sudden and sick synchronicity with the vampire. As the leopard leaped, they screamed in unison and, with the vampire's hand still wrapped around the Hunter's wrist, they brought the Hunter's bastard sword up, skewering the beast through its breast. It dropped to the floor without triggering another spell, pinning the bastard sword under its dead body, its nose just nudging Ulvaryl's knee.

Both women took a deep breath, and as the Hunter released the bastard sword, the vampire released her wrist. Their eyes met again. "Close," the Hunter said softly.

"Quite," the vampire replied. A sadistic glint shone in her dead eyes. "But not as close as this." The Hunter brought her hands up, but the vampire was stronger and quicker. With both hands she drove the short sword down onto the Hunter's chest. Beyond them, the Hunter heard the man yelling something in a language she did not know. She managed to deflect Ulvaryl's blow, but the blade still came down hard against her shoulder. The sword did not enter her, but a sickening crack echoed through the hall as the Hunter's collarbone shattered against the blade. The force of the impact drove the wooden sword from Ulvaryl's hands, and it fell to the Hunter's side. Ulvaryl's cry of surprise buried the Hunter's pained whimper.

Again, the Hunter could not move her left arm, and she was keenly aware that she was now weaponless against this great foe. I am finished, she thought in disgust as more arrows from the man's bow struck the rug around her. As old as the century, and the greater part of that spent fighting vampire, and I am to meet Kelemvor beneath one in the dunegon of a dilo that a khantino tshorave sent me to kill. I am finished. And then she remembered the dagger of Bhaal still stuck in her belt.

"Why didn't it cut you!" Ulvaryl screeched, pummeling the broken mass of the Hunter’s collar. The Hunter moaned but bent her right arm to grope at her side, beneath her leather coat. She was losing consciousness, but when her hand closed around the dagger's slick hilt she steeled herself and held her breath. "You should be dead, you stupid half-live bitch! Why aren't you dead yet! Why didn't it cut you!"

One final, desperate swing brought the dagger up swiftly before Ulvaryl could do more than see it coming for her. It caught her in her temple, the silver blade disappearing into her head all the way to the hilt, where the skull surrounded by the circle of bloodgems grinned manically. Ulvaryl's scream was music in the Hunter's ears. She pushed the vampire off her, sat up to reach across herself to grab the wooden short sword with her right hand, then plunged the magic wood into Ulvaryl's heart.

The scream ended suddenly, painfully, leaving the skewered vampire choking on her knees on the rug. The Hunter struggled to her feet, pulled her bastard sword from under the dead leopard, then faced the vampire. "You know why it would not cut me?" she hissed thickly, aware of the blood flicking from her lips as she spoke. "Because unlike you, I have a soul!" Her arm shook so badly from pain and exhaustion that it took two swings before the vampire's head dropped from her neck to tumble into her lap. The body twitched one, twice, then stilled. The fell beast was finally dead.

Breathing was agony, and how she remained standing the Hunter did not know. But somehow she managed to fumble her swords back into their sheathes with one hand, then pulled the dagger of Bhaal from the vampire's severed head. Grimacing, the Hunter wiped the gore-streaked blade clean on her coat and tucked it back under her belt. Then she fell to her knees.

A click echoed through the room.

The Hunter's head dropped, and if it was possible for a dhampir to cry she would have. Out again came the dagger as the ball of energy became a charging wild dog. Before she could move -- she was not sure she could move -- three arrows twanged from the mysterious man's bow. After an eternity of misses, the man had finally found his mark. The arrows struck the dog in the throat, and it fell over, dead.

He darted to the edge of the rug and fell to one knee to look at her, sitting on the rug fully five feet from him. His wide-eyed stare darted from the Hunter to the still head and torso of the vampire. "That was beyond belief," he said hollowly. "You defeated a vampire."

"Good," the Hunter muttered. "Your eyes do work." She raised her head and gritted her teeth against the pain to look at him. He pushed the hood away from his face, and she saw he was a foreigner, likely from the Unapproachable East. Dancing in his brown eyes was an emotion she could not quite place. Joy, perhaps. Or relief. Or perhaps merely amazement at what he had just seen. "I have done better. This was a poor victory, thanks to my careless efforts on this damned rug," she said.

"You sell your skills short, ryoujin no kyuketsuki. I have never seen a woman -- not even a man -- defeat a vampire single-handedly." His brow furrowed. "Can you rise? We have to get you off this rug. Your injuries are grave, and I'm afraid of what might come through these many doors next."

The Hunter shook her head. "Give me time," she said. "I ... heal quickly. Just give me time." She hazily tried to calculate how long before her body would repair itself. One benefit to being dhampir, one of the few, was a rapid regeneration of wounds. Not as rapid as a vampire's wounds would heal, but faster than a human's. Faster still if she fed. Unbidden, the image of the young thief bleeding under her hands sprang into her mind's eye. She shuddered and pushed it away. It was not time yet. Not for days.

The man rested an elbow on his knee and put his chin on the heel of his hand, considering something. "Likely neither one of us wishes to battle more creatures called by the rug if you should step forward," he said. "Do you think you can manage one leap? If I find a rope, I may be able to pull you off the rug."

The Hunter indicated her broken collarbone and limp left arm. "I would be little help in that now. But give me a moment," she implored.

"Bijin kuraiiro," he said, "there are thieves and monsters running all through this place. The kyuketsuki was one of many evils here. Could you stand to meet another? You don't look like you could. I would feel better if you were here safely at my side rather than across a trapped rug."

The Hunter eyed the man warily. "Why do you care? You know me not at all."

A slow grin spread across his face. "Because I pray every night for Ilmater to send me a beautiful woman. That he would send me a beauty that can best vampires is a treasure too great to let slip away."

"You pick a foolish time and place to cozen, tshorave," the Hunter snorted, then winced.

"Do I? I'm only being honest," the man laughed. "But to be more honest, it's because I seek to get free of this place, and my pick of allies are few. I'd rather have a quick-healing slayer of monsters with me than against me. Now, shall I get that rope?"

Somewhere far off in the dungeon there was an explosion, making the floor tremble. The Hunter recalled the other thieves and wondered what had become of them, then considered the one kneeling before her. Likely he was one of Linvail's men. And he likely was right that she could not stand alone now. She nodded curtly, earning a slight bow from him before he sped off to find the rope.

While he was gone, another rumbling explosion made the floors quake, and in the distance the Hunter thought she heard screams. Linvail's thieves were dying, and if the Shattered One was truly within this place, she was in no shape to confront him. She had failed Linvail's mission. Not yet, she thought as she slowly, painfully managed to stand. An hour, perhaps two, and I will be able to confront him as I planned. Then I am done with this and done with Amn before the sun sets again.

The man returned with a length of rope slung over his shoulder. He uncoiled it and tossed her one end. "Tie that about your waist if you can," he called and waited while awkwardly tied the rope with her one good hand. "Now, when you leap, I'll pull. You should clear the rug. Ready?" The Hunter nodded shakily as the man planted his feet against the floor and cried, "Now, leap!"

The Hunter jumped with all the strength left to her and cried out as the slack rope went taut as the man pulled hard, jerking her over the rug. Her feet landed on the floor just beyond the rug, but she landed badly. Her good arm pinwheeled for balance as she started to fall backward.

The man caught her in his arms and pulled her back, sending them toppling safely to the floor with the Hunter sprawled atop him. "You see?" he said into her hair, "that was easily done. I love it when a plan comes together."

He might have said more, but the Hunter did not hear. The final jolt of pain was too much for even her constitution. The world faded away into a haze of gray, where there was no pain, no sound and no fear.

---

Gossary, Rom:
mula -- night creature, vampire
chiavala -- boy
Romni -- female Rom
gadje -- non-Rom person
chey -- girl
Khantino mula -- Stinking vampire
Kuhl -- shit
dilo -- madman
khantino tshorave -- stinking thief

Glossary, Kozakuran:
ryoujin no kyuketsuki -- vampire hunter
Bijin kuraiiro -- dark beauty
kyuketsuki -- vampire