I am become death, he thought. I am still your master, boy, and you are my tool, and you have not an iota of the will needed to deny me! He dragged Melkhior close, so close that he could smell the other vampire’s fear, and he lunged, driving his fangs into Melkhior’s throat. Goodbye, my son. In the end, at the last, you have proven your use as you always desired.
Melkhior screamed. And W’soran died.
W’soran’s jaws spasmed and then released their grip. He flopped to the ground. As the echoes of his scream faded, Melkhior opened his eyes and stared at his talons in something akin to wonder. They were strong, not withered or practically mummified, but fleshy and powerful looking.
‘Ha,’ he hissed. ‘Death…’
‘Melkhior,’ the Lahmian said. He looked at her, putting a name to the face — Khemalla. It took him a further moment to recall that she was speaking to him.
‘Yes, I am — well,’ he rasped. He looked down at the shrivelled thing at his feet. ‘He, however, is not.’
‘He looked as if he were going to kill you,’ Khemalla said, sinking to her haunches beside the corpse. ‘And then it appeared as if he just… gave up.’
‘He was tired of running,’ Melkhior said.
‘What?’ Khemalla looked up at him.
‘He was old. Far older than most things walking this world, and he was tired. Why do you think he waited for us here? We didn’t ambush him… he knew we were coming. He just didn’t know when.’ He looked down at the body. ‘Good riddance to him.’
He turned and looked at the vault. Khemalla rose to her feet. ‘The Strigoi are still out there somewhere. We should go.’
The Strigoi did not serve them, he recalled suddenly, flipping through his memories and grabbing hold of the right one. Though Neferata’s hounds had sniffed out the old wolf’s lair first, they were not the only hunters on his trail. Ushoran too — or perhaps Nagash — desired to control W’soran, and to make use of his power.
Well, too late for that now.
‘I think not,’ Melkhior said. He looked at her. ‘You and your sisters can handle them easily enough. And I will need time to… consume his secrets and make them my own, several days at least.’
Khemalla’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do not attempt to deceive us, sorcerer. One does not enter lightly into bargains with the Queen of Mysteries.’
‘Poor, foolish Melkhior, deceive the mistress of the Silver Pinnacle? Perish the thought,’ Melkhior said. ‘I am not that old monster, woman. I wish peace, or at least a lack of enmity between myself and your sisterhood. I have no interest in games of power or empires.’
‘But you will help us,’ Khemalla said warily.
‘Oh yes, yes, a bargain is a bargain,’ Melkhior said. ‘I will help your queen refine the teachings of Morath, and I will deliver unto her the pick of what resides in these vaults, as promised. And then, I will vanish, and leave your lot and Ushoran’s to squabble over these pitiful mountains in peace.’
Khemalla stared at him for a moment, and then nodded tersely. She sheathed her blade and turned away. In the blink of an eye, she was gone; truly gone, and not simply hiding.
‘Yes, a few days I think. That should be more than enough to see to things. And then… what? What then for poor — ah — Melkhior, eh,’ he murmured, looking again at his hand.
He looked down at the shrivelled corpse, as if expecting an answer. When none was forthcoming, he knelt. He reached out a hand, as if to touch the slack features and the glazed eye, now forever unblinking. He reached up and traced the edge of his own eye. Then, in a quick motion, he scooped up the body and, cradling it to his chest, he turned to face the vault.
He spoke a single word. It hummed through the air and the stone of the walls and link by link, the chains began to rattle. They rose to the height of a man and in the wide space before the stone, motes of pale light appeared and blossomed into the same ragged phantoms as before. They screamed in silence, writhing beneath the weight of the chains as they began to move forward, straining against the wedge, pulling the chains. The wedge groaned in its housing and began to pull free of the hole as it had earlier. In moments, the vault was once more open and strange lights could be seen within.
And the Master of Death smiled.