breeze carried the wild cry of the war-horns of the tribes as they mingled with the brutish drum-beats of the orcs. The wildlings had thrown themselves into their fight with commendable ferocity. Surprising the orcs as they had, they would carve off portions of the horde leaving what continued on, drawn as it was by Wazzakaz’s momentum, for the Strigoi to weaken further. An hour later, Neferata saw the moon rise and felt the soil shift slightly. The vibration was faint, but she recognised its meaning. ‘They’re coming,’ she said loudly.
‘It’s about time. I thought this plan of yours was going to be fast,’ Vorag groused before turning to bellow orders to his subordinates. Neferata summoned Layla with a crook of her finger.
‘Get up that tree and tell me what you see,’ Neferata said, gesturing. Layla obeyed with an alacrity that made Stregga chuckle as she joined Neferata.
‘She reminds me of someone. Can’t quite put a finger on it…’ the Sartosan said. Neferata glanced at her and the chuckles died away. Stregga shrugged. ‘Sorry, mistress,’ she said.
‘There is nothing to apologise for,’ Neferata said. ‘Simply watch your tone.’
‘Of course, mistress, I’m good at that, me. Soul of discretion. Quiet as a mouse. Silent as a leopard. Soft, like a–’
Neferata looked at her handmaiden steadily. Stregga grinned cheerily. Neferata snorted and turned away. ‘I knew I should have killed you in Sartosa.’
‘Good thing you didn’t, eh?’ Stregga said. ‘When the bone-kings came calling, I was invaluable, if I do say so myself.’
Neferata snorted again and tapped her fingers on the pommel of her sword. ‘My tolerance is not limitless, Lupa.’
‘But my usefulness is,’ Stregga said. ‘Besides which, Vorag would protect me, eh Vorag?’
‘She’s almost killed me once, she-wolf. I’ll not risk that again, not even for a morsel as delectable as yourself,’ Vorag said heartily, joining them at the treeline.
Stregga made a face and Neferata smiled. She looked aside at Vorag and said, ‘You seem cheerful, champion of Mourkain.’
Vorag’s smile dissolved. ‘I’ll not hold that title much longer,’ he said.
‘No, you won’t,’ Neferata said.
‘Abhorash,’ Vorag said, chewing the name of his rival like a piece of stubborn gristle.
‘The people love him,’ Neferata said. ‘My people loved him as well, before he abandoned them.’
Vorag growled. Stregga moved to his side comfortingly. ‘Ushoran wants him to take command of the armies. Says my ways are old-fashioned,’ he said.
Which they are, Neferata thought. You are an anachronism, Bloodytooth, even in these primitive lands. And Ushoran is smart enough to recognise the game you’re playing. ‘He has replaced many of your comrades and peers as well,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘Men who should have received the kiss withered and died while arrogant play-warriors live forever in glory. Zandor, for instance, or that preening fop Gashnag, neither of whom are a match for you.’
He looked at her, one fang protruding as he sucked on his lip. ‘No, they are not. Once, we were men. Now we are nothing but ticks or fleas on the carcass of a dog.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Neferata said. ‘I’m sure many feel as you do.’ Mainly because I have ensured that they do so, over the course of these past centuries. Not just other vampires either, but those noble families who have continually been passed over for induction into the ranks of the immortals, she thought with satisfaction. The wives and lovers of the Strigoi nobles had fairly fallen over themselves to receive her kiss. Ushoran refused to ‘waste’ his on women whom he saw as little better than dogs in heat. And those women had had years to mull over that insult and remind their husbands and lovers of it, as well as every other petty hurt Ushoran had done.
‘They do,’ Vorag said softly. It was his turn not to look at her. ‘They say Abhorash’s time in the north will be longer than he first thought. That the northern daemon-lovers are proving stronger than he estimated.’
‘Abhorash always did overestimate his own prowess,’ Neferata said smoothly. The ‘scouts’ she had sent into the north prior to Abhorash’s expedition had obviously done their job. Mourkain gold now filled the pockets of northern warlords, and they were more than happy to band together to stave off Strigos’s encroachment into the wastes. They would not succeed… Abhorash was effective for all his arrogance. But he would be occupied for years; long enough to see Ushoran put in his proper place… at her feet.
‘With him gone,’ Vorag began carefully, ‘Ushoran has