Maksym Pachesiuk
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Warlock's Last Exam - Chapter 21
🕑 Added 2025-01-16 15:22:18 +0000 UTCThe Lindemann Nest was located in Sungarden. In fact, all three vampire mansions stood within one block on a large plot of land, divided by a towering fence shaped like a three-pronged star. Even from the road encircling the block, the fence seemed more like an elaborate symbol than a true barrier, but the ones separating the neighbors could easily be called fortress walls. Within five meters of the fence, there wasn’t a single bush – just a clean strip of manicured lawn. Trust between the neighbors was clearly non-existent. Vampires would never agree to such close proximity of their own free will. This was likely the idea of the duke who had permitted bloodsuckers to settle in the city.
The car belonging to Kate Lindemann – that was the vampire’s name; I’d learned it during the ride – screeched its tires as it sped through the open wrought-iron gates bearing an ornate “L.” It zipped along the path between perfectly trimmed hedges toward a grand fountain and came to a stop at the steps of a columned porch. The mansion’s layout vaguely reminded me of Harry’s house, but everything here gleamed with fresh white paint, polish, and meticulous care.
In stark contrast to the white exterior, the interior favored dark tones: black, red, and brown. Lucas Lindemann greeted us on the stairs in the main hall. And again, the contrast. The vampire stood out sharply in his sky-blue suit, standing atop a blood-red carpet.
“To the basement!” he commanded.
My hand instinctively moved under my jacket toward the pistol, but it was gently – and firmly – stopped by Kate. Her grip was anything but delicate.
“Oh!” Lucas exclaimed. “You’ll get your chance to shoot! To the basement!”
Kate gently yet insistently pushed me in the back. That was the only reason I took a step forward. The alternative was landing face-first on the parquet floor.
Is there a vampire mansion somewhere without a basement? This one, I suspected, might even be bigger than the mansion itself. At least, we stopped at the second underground level; the stairs kept spiraling downward for several more flights. Contrary to my expectations, I didn’t see any damp dungeon or eerie torture chamber. On the contrary, the basement was a massive training hall filled with dummies, punching bags, weapon racks, kettlebells, and dumbbells. Somehow, I’d never considered the idea that bloodsuckers needed to stay in shape. And judging by the state of the place, they took it seriously: the thick granite columns were covered in chips and scratches, and large metal runes were embedded into the stone walls. I couldn’t quite discern their purpose. Clearly, these weren’t ordinary formulas but more of a three-dimensional geometric projection. Supporting this theory was the fact that the lighting wasn’t electric; the vampires used dim, fire-based magical lamps.
Lindemann tossed his jacket onto a hanger near the entrance and began rolling up his sleeves.
“Leave us,” he said to Kate.
“Should I wait outside the door?”
“Upstairs. You’ll take the lord to the Anvil after our conversation.”
“Shall I prepare the blood stones?”
Lindemann froze.
“Have them on standby.”
“So, I’m just here to be beaten up?” I asked.
“For your education, Lord Loxlin,” Lindemann replied. “Who exactly do you think you are, young man?”
“May I at least know the reason for your discontent, Sir Lindemann?” I asked, trying to figure out how to discreetly pull out a vial of potion.
“Care to guess?”
I shook my head. “Just yesterday morning, you were offering me your friendship.”
“Oh, I’m not going back on my words! And I’m acting, believe me,” Lucas placed a hand over his chest, “with the best of intentions. Either success has gone to your head, or during your heroics, you’ve hit that head quite hard.”
“I still don’t understand,” I said, subtly slipping a hand into my satchel.
“Oh, I see it all. Go ahead, don’t be shy. In fact, you can prepare yourself however you like. We won’t be taking breaks.”
I froze. “What are the rules of the fight?”
“Rules?” Lindemann smiled. “Try your best to kill me. That’s your only chance of causing me even the slightest harm. By the way, I’m not using any amulets.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“For you, young man. Any guesses yet why I’m so angry?”
“Are you afraid of being blamed for my death if I keep taking risks?” I said as I downed a universal elixir.
“Close. I’ve placed my bet on you, forgiven the deaths of children, and accepted the reputational damage – not so you could get yourself stupidly killed in your next escapade. But that’s the big picture. Yesterday, you achieved new heights of idiocy!”
I pulled out my pistol, removed the magazine, and quickly began unloading the rounds, clicking them into the satchel. I left the one in the chamber and, almost casually, turned my left side toward the vampire. I replaced the rounds in the magazine with armor-piercing bullets, finishing with a “fire apple.” Vampires hate fire.
“Let’s get specific,” I said. “Are you talking about Fairburn, the assassination attempt, or Sardu?”
“Sardu! Of course Sardu! What the hell do you even want with her? As far as I know, she’s never set foot in Duthigh before.”
Does he really not know, or is he just playing along? Either way, I ignored the question.
“I had a Vicar from the Couliers with me.”
“Duncan, you threatened a vampire who has been granted inviolability by the princes.”
So, we’re on a first-name basis now? Fine.
“Inviolability,” I clarified. “Not protection.”
“She’s a guest, Duncan. When guests get into trouble, it makes the hosts look bad.”
But vampire princes have no authority in Farnell. Claiming otherwise would challenge the duke, the mayor, and the crown. However, the heads of the nests do wield some authority.
“So,” I clarified, “it makes you look bad…”
“Me, Valentine, Gratch. We all end up looking not so great.”
“And by teaching me a lesson, you’ll regain some of your lost reputation,” I said, though I kept silent about how much more might be behind this gesture. Intrigue, damn it… I hate it! Lindemann, at the very least, is declaring that I’m one of his people, that he has the right to punish a Bremorian. And that’s only what’s on the surface! What a… cunning bloodsucker.
“Not as much as I’d like,” Lucas admitted slyly. “Shall we begin?”
“You’re certain about the rules?” I asked, raising the magazine to the grip. Since I’d turned to the side earlier, the pistol’s barrel was aimed at the ceiling above the vampire, and it would only take a slight movement of my wrist to bring it to bear on Lindemann.
“Completely,” the bloodsucker replied.
Perfect! No need to wait for a starting signal. I’m under no illusions – I’m going to get beaten. That said, trying to kill Lucas, as he suggests, is a terrible idea. God forbid I somehow succeed; I’d be a dead man myself. But that doesn’t mean I’ll meekly submit to fate. The only ones with the right to punish me are my family and the clan council! So, I’ll treat this fight as a valuable learning experience. When else will I get the chance to spar with a true vampire master? And he’s even left himself open. Imagine agreeing to a fight without rules!
I nodded, tilting the barrel parallel to the ground, slid the magazine halfway in, and pulled the trigger. The FN spat out the round already in the chamber, and Lindemann staggered slightly as it hit him in the chest. Only then did I slam the magazine in and press the safety, sliding the bolt into place. Damn, shame it wasn’t a thunder round!
I leapt toward the nearest column, firing a second shot into Lucas’s stomach. I didn’t dare shoot the “fire apple” any higher. If it hit his spine – goodbye, vampire and goodbye, my life. But my worries were pointless; the vampire was unbelievably fast and wasn’t standing still like a statue. The fire orb ricocheted off the floor, bounced to the wall, the ceiling... and then Lindemann’s fist, appearing right next to me, slammed into the “brick” shield.
“Well done!” Lindemann said.
I fired at his chest again, but the bloodsucker swayed to the right like a pendulum. I sent another round after him, and he shifted to the left. Swinging the barrel after the vampire, I decided not to shoot right away and instead brought the barrel back to where he was likely to move – and pulled the trigger.
“Brilliant!” the vampire remarked.
Suddenly, the barrel of my gun was trapped in the vampire’s steel grip. I activated my shield ring and struck the edge of the shield against his arm, but before the hit connected, his foot slammed into my stomach, sending me flying into the column I’d planned to hide behind.
The back of my head hit the rough granite, and the world flashed and went dark for a moment. The cufflinks worked as intended, activating the stone skin, but they didn’t save me from the brief disorientation. Lindemann took full advantage of that.
He closed the distance in a heartbeat, stepped past the border of the “brick” shield, pinned me against the column, and started hammering me with punches. He easily broke through my blocks and suppressed any attempt to activate the shield. The charge in the cufflinks began draining rapidly. Ten punches were all it took to completely empty the onyxes of their earth magic.
Another strike split my brow open, and blood magic flooded into my body. Controlling its flow under the barrage of punches was impossible, so I activated an old stone-skin ring instead, buying myself a few seconds. Forget the wounds, the blood in my eyes, the aching muscles!
I managed to dodge the next blow! The vampire’s fist smashed into the granite with a crunch, and I dove at his legs, hoping to take the fight to the ground. What was I even thinking?
His knee shot up into my chin, and with the next blow, my ribs cracked. A solid kick to the side sent me sprawling on the floor. The vampire stomped down on my left hand, grinding it under his heel. Three seconds passed, and the ring’s charge ran out. The pain was overwhelming, making it impossible to control the remaining blood magic, which surged into my wounds.
I growled, reaching for my dagger, but Lindemann’s polished shoe smashed into my jaw. Another kick to the side, then a few strikes to my ribs and kidneys, and finally, he focused on my spleen.
“Well, how’s the fight treating you?” Lucas asked. “Still think you’re invincible?”
I wanted to fire back with a sharp retort, but my jaw ached like hell. All that came out was a hoarse wheeze.
“Time to end the lesson.”
Lucas grabbed me by the collar and yanked me to my feet. Or at least he tried – my legs wouldn’t hold. The vampire seized me by the throat and lifted me. His grip was merciless, adding the pain of burning muscles to the suffocating lack of air. Somehow, I managed to raise my hands to try and pry his fingers off my neck. My nails scraped my own skin, futilely attempting to wedge beneath the vampire’s iron grip. His hands clamped around my throat like a vice.
The oxygen in my pain-wracked muscles ran out, leaving them weaker with every passing moment. Each movement was feebler than the last, and convulsions began to set in.
The view before my eyes had long since turned into a blurry haze, where my opponent’s face was just a shapeless blotch. Summoning the last of my strength, I kicked at where his groin should have been. Oh, how I would have loved to crush those bollocks of his – he mostly keeps them for decoration anyway. Instead, I received a brutal counterstrike to my shin.
The sharp pain shot through me like lightning, so intense that my hands dropped, and I could no longer lift them.
The vampire said something. His words echoed like a distant hum against the backdrop of my fading life. And then I fell.
Air rushed into my lungs, and for a while, I teetered on the edge of consciousness, my body wracked with convulsions and violent coughing.
“Remember these sensations, Duncan,” Lindemann advised.
I wiped the tears from my eyes and saw the vampire leaning over me. Lucas looked quite fresh, despite the two bullet holes in his sky-blue vest.
“Get up,” he said, giving me a moment to catch my breath.
I reached for my potions.
“No!” the vampire stopped me. “You’ll take them at home.”
“What if I have internal bleeding?”
“You’ve got bruised kidneys, a few cracked ribs, and a slightly battered spleen. Nothing important was damaged. Should I call Kate to help you?”
Not a chance!
I got up on my own, barely managing to suppress the trembling in my bruised legs and the sharp pain in my lower back. But I did it. On my own.
“A fighter,” Lindemann nodded. “A true one. But not enough brains. I used only speed and strength. Only speed and strength, Duncan! Do you understand what that means?”
I nodded. The arsenal of abilities that master vampires possess is far greater. Even something as basic as a Step into the Shadow is a standard skill for every second one of them, not to mention mental confusion, energy strikes that devour the subtle body, and plenty of other nasty tricks.
And Lindemann himself was a dangerous opponent. He forced me to give it my all, yet didn’t fully demonstrate the extent of his own abilities.
“Good,” the vampire said. “Kate is a master too. In Gratch’s nest, there are three masters, and Valentine’s has five! It’s hard to compare sorcerers to us, but Lord Fairburn is about equal to me in strength. And there are those who are even stronger! This city is full of people who are far stronger than you. Think about that the next time you get a stupid idea in your head, or better yet – ask for help. And if I refuse, you should definitely stay out of it!”
I couldn’t manage the climb back up to the surface on my own. After my second fall, Lindemann called for Kate. She drove me to “The Anvil” – that’s what the vampires called Harry’s mansion. They dropped me off at the corner of the block, making me walk the rest of the way to the gate on my own, and they loaded me up too. Deliberately, so that all the onlookers could get a good look at my pathetic, battered state.
They saddled me with a box and a garment bag. I left both by the gates. Remarkably, no one touched them while Harry was tending to my wounds. After the treatment, I blacked out and slept for sixteen hours straight. When I woke up in the morning, I discovered that curiosity had gotten the better of the wizard.
He had stuffed an old tea tin with ether stones, inscribed it with three dozen rune chains, and had Cap running around the park with it, slowly approaching the items.
The garment bag contained an exact copy of my suit, except the fabric was more expensive, and under the collar was the monogram of one of the most exquisite ateliers in Farnell. The box, too, held nothing dangerous: just fine wood, intricate carvings, and about a dozen large hematites brimming with blood power. Harry immediately used half of the stones on me, boosting my regeneration and metabolism while I slept, so I woke up ravenous.
A big bowl of oatmeal, four eggs, a can of stew, and two cups of tea quickly fixed that.
Harry just smiled quietly as he watched me devour everything, but the Sparrow brothers, unfamiliar with the effects of accelerated metabolism, sat there wide-eyed in amazement.
“Well,” Harry asked, tugging at his beard, “how do you feel?”
“Fantastic!”
“Did the bloodsucker knock some sense into you, or just beat out whatever scraps you had left?”
“Not funny,” I replied.
“Still, what are your plans?”
“A telegram home.”
“The one you were planning to send yesterday.”
“I got... a little delayed.”
“Well… a messenger from Fairburn came. He left a note.”
“What’s in it?”
“Give me your word that the first thing you’ll do is send the telegram, no delays.”
“Harry…”
“Your word, Lord Loxlin!”
The wizard, as I’d already figured out, took promises very seriously. And my grandfather had always taught me to keep my word. It’s what separates a man from a scoundrel.
“The first thing,” I promised, “as soon as I’m in the city.”
“The post office is on Mayflow Road. Five blocks toward the Park.”
“Thanks,” I said. “So, what’s in the note?”
Harry handed me a scrap of cheap yellow paper. I wasn’t expecting official stationery, but I had at least hoped for legible handwriting – not these scrawls left by a blunt pencil. Now I had to wonder: what was the purpose of this?
“Smuggler’s Bay, 18 Kilbeg Street, ‘The Noose,’” I read aloud. “What’s that?”
“A tavern,” Knuckles said gloomy.
“You don’t sound too thrilled about it,” I noted.
“Are we going there?” the young man asked hesitantly.
“We’re deciding that right now. What kind of place is it?”
“A tavern. But people don’t just go there for a casual drink. That’s where business gets done.”
“More specifics, boy,” Harry said.
“Can you hire a killer there?” I asked.
“Easily.”
Damn it. After yesterday, the last thing I wanted was to stick my head in the tiger’s mouth.
“Fairburns,” I cursed. “I get your desire to wipe them out, Harry. I mean, the baron seems to have done what I asked him to, but it feels like he’s luring me into another trap. And now I have to go, but there’s a real chance of ending up with a shiv in my kidney.
“No one will touch you there,” Knuckles said. “Seriously, they won’t. It’s neutral ground. Causing trouble there is against the code.”
Harry and I exchanged glances.
“He actually believes that,” I said.
“In a thief’s code? Boy, I thought you were more mature than that.”
“Come on, they really won’t touch you there!”
“Then why do you sound so unenthusiastic about the place?” I asked. “I thought you’d be excited about all the romantic outlaw vibes.”
“It’s the people there… It’s better not to cross their path unnecessarily. Especially if I’m planning to live a law-abiding life.”
“Now that,” Harry said approvingly, “is a mature thought. And remember, thief’s code is a tricky thing: it’s bought and sold. Everything depends on the price.”
“You also have to know who to pay and how much,” Knuckles grumbled. “The owner doesn’t want a bad reputation; otherwise, clients will be too scared to come in and make deals. Reputation’s worth more than money.”
“Fair point,” I agreed.
“No, Duncan, it’s a bad idea!” Harry declared.
“I think you’re right, but I still need to send that telegram. Can I borrow your driver?”
“To the post office and back!” the wizard warned, wagging a gnarled finger at me.
I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender.
Comments
Jonathan Griffith
Tyftc!
