Read Online The Last Aerie by Brian Lumley - Free Book Online Page B

And while he worked, so he questioned Nestor about his part in all this, and discovered his motive: that he would be Wamphyri. At that, a grimly ironic scheme had entered Wran’s mind. Here was one vampire about to die—Vasagi, and his leech still in him—and here a Szgany youth just itching to take his place! And why not? Wran owed him that much at least. It would be such a simple thing to arrange.
    It had been arranged! Wran had sent Nestor on some small errand, and in his absence opened Vasagi’s spine through skin, flesh, muscle, and ribs to find and drain his leech. For to a vampire the blood is the life, and the best vessel from which to drink it is another vampire’s parasite—preferably an enemy’s!
    Drained and dying, finally the Suck’s leech had deserted him and issued its egg. As Nestor returned, Wran caught up the small, skittering, pearly spheroid into his hand, to stare at it in grim satisfaction. He knew that if he, Wran, were a suitable vessel, then that Vasagi’s egg would soak like quicksilver through his skin and inhabit him; but he already had a mature parasite leech of his own, which would devour any intruder in a trice.
    Then, opening his fist to show Nestor the naked egg, Wran had called him closer. And as if blowing a kiss, he’d sent the thing flying into the other’s gawping face!
    It had taken nothing more than that: it was the quickest, easiest way to become a vampire. Not the virulent bite, which brings about lethargy, death, and undeath; and not sex, which likewise transmits stuff of the vampire between bodies. For in cases such as these the transition is only gradual. The victim will become a vampire—always, invariably—but not always Wamphyri. Ah, but when the egg itself is passed on …
    The melding had caused Nestor such pain as he could never have believed possible without experiencing it. By the time he had recovered strength enough to crawl, the sun was very nearly up. But there on a bluff, Vasagi’s flyer had waited, its spatulate head nodding this way and that in a soughing breeze off Sunside’s forests, and Nestor had known what he must do.
    Making his way to the flyer, he passed close to Vasagi, who still clung to life despite his hideous wounds. Then the Suck had begged him to loosen the pegs which held him fast to the hillside. For after all, Nestor already possessed Vasagi’s egg and would soon become heir to his flyer. So what more could he want? Surely he could afford to spare his life, what little of it remained, and not leave him to melt in the sun?
    Nestor had been naïve in the ways of the Wamphyri. If his egg were a mature leech, doubtless it would have caused him to laugh. But with his own agonies so fresh in his mind, he could scarcely bear the thought of another’s. And such agonies: to slump into gurgling glue, vaporize to roiling smoke and stench, and steam away to nothing, like a slug tossed into a campfire! And so he’d paused a moment to loosen and yank free the Suck’s pegs, before carrying on towards the patiently waiting flyer.
    Before, there’d been a crossbow bolt transfixing the V of muscle between Vasagi’s neck and shoulder. Nestor knew, for he was the one who had put it there (Wran had pulled it out when he pegged Vasagi down, just for the pleasure it gave him). Now the ironwood bolt lay in the bloodied dust, and Nestor’s empty crossbow swung at his hip. Automatically, he had taken up the bolt and clipped it into its housing under the crossbow’s tiller. For if he was really on his way to Starside, it would be as well to take a weapon along—especially now that he knew what to expect there! The crossbow should provide some security at least. For in all Sunside there was no finer shot than Nestor. So they had used to say back in … back in … back where? But Nestor no longer remembered.
    Then he’d found Vasagi’s bloodied battle gauntlet hanging by a thong from the flyer’s saddle, where Wran had left it for him. But even