Broom with a View (15 page)

When the order to search the field came through, Sonny couldn’t help but remark, “If we find Vampires, are we really to attack so close to a ceasefire?” For indeed, all signs indicated that a cease of hostilities was imminent. “It seems rather ungentlemanly, don’t you think?” he asked the lieutenant in
command.

“If it were up to me,” Lieutenant Chomsky told him as he looped his wire
-rimmed glasses over his ears, “we’d all be having a drink in the pub, but I’m not the one making up the rules for this war.”

And so the corporal found himself immersed in the fleeting moments of dark just before dawn, trying to cross a field with a few dozen green troops and a glowing orb. They’d cloaked their weapon, which was about the size of a medicine ball, under a heavy canvas tarp, but even that wasn’t enough to fully eclipse the light it emitted.

Unlike his sister, Sonny didn’t usually use a wand for Craftwork. He preferred to have his hands free. But just in case his magic failed him, Sonny did have a small crossbow strapped to his back.

At first
, some of the men were joking around a bit. They’d observed the field for most the night and felt pretty assured there were no Vampires. Sonny, who was more experienced than almost everyone in the platoon, preferred to stay alert. He did love a good laugh but not when his life was potentially on the line, and as long as he was on a mission for the Craft, he felt his life was always on the line.

Then the mist started rolling in, at first just dusting their ankles. An early morning mist is not an uncommon thing in Eastern Europe until the heat of the day can burn it off, but it did make the field a bit more eerie. Most of the men grew silent, although some grew louder, trying through bravado to prove their nerves weren’t starting to rattle.

A low wailing began. It could have easily been the wind whistling through the trees how it sometimes does—except there was no wind. “What the bleeding hell is that?” a Crafter somewhere off to Sonny’s left muttered.

“Steady men,” Lieutenant Chomsky said in a low voice to Sonny’s direct right. “There
’s nothing to fear here as long as we…”

Sonny whipped his head around to see what had happened to the Lieutenant, but there was nothing to see. The man was gone. There was no trace of him. It was like he’d simply evaporated.

Dropping to a crouch, Sonny quickly scanned the sky, which was usually the Vampires’ first line of attack. Seeing nothing, he looked to the ground. Something glinting in the grass caught his eye. There were the Lieutenant’s glasses, but they were half buried in the earth. “What the deuce,” the young man exclaimed, putting his hand on the ground and then immediately retracting it. Something had wiggled beneath his palm.

Spreading the grass while whispering a small illumination charm, Sonny got a closer look. Fingertips. He could just make them out. And they were still connected to a hand, but the hand was buried in the ground. “Good Goddess,” he exclaimed in a husky voice. “Lieutenant Chomsky’s been buried alive.” Immediately tearing at the earth, he shouted to the men closest to him. “Help me! We have to dig! He’s still alive. His heart is still beating.”

Two men fell to their knees and tore at the ground. Sonny racked his brain for an unearthing spell. There had to be one. He was sure there was something his mother would use when working in the garden. “An unearthing charm,” he shouted. “Who knows an unearthing charm?”

“I’ve got one,” a soldier said, running
forwards.

Sonny was so intent on digging that he didn’t even look up at the man’s face; he only saw his boots. “Well, use it, damn you! Use it now!”

But before the soldier could utter a word, a claw-like hand burst from the soil, wrapped around the man’s ankle, and dragged him into the ground. Sonny froze for a second, staring at the spot where the soldier had just been.

“It’s underground!” he shouted. “The fortress is underground!”

At that moment, several hands burst through the earth and dragged half a dozen Crafters to their doom. Some men fell to their knees to try to help their fellow soldiers; others panicked and fled the field.

“Stick together,” Sonny shouted to the men surrounding him. He quickly forged a protection spell, but it was a sloppy bit of Crafting
, and he knew it wouldn’t last long. “Form a circle,” he ordered. By rank, he wasn’t actually the next person in line to lead the platoon, but no one else was taking command of the situation. “We’re going to do a summoning spell.”

“For what?” a frighten
ed Crafter asked, just barely able to keep from bolting for the forest.

“Earthquake,” was Sonny’s reply. “We’re going to summon an earthquake and bust this damn Vampire fortress wide open.”

“We’re not powerful enough for that,” the scared soldier insisted. “That’s Sorcerer stuff.”

“Yes, we are,” Sonny insisted. “If we Craft together, we can do it.” His argument was weakened by the frightened soldier being sucked down into the earth. “Come on, men,” Sonny bellowed. “It’s our only chance.”

Thirteen Crafters would have been ideal for the spell, but there weren’t that many men left on the field. They would have to make do with what they had. “Form a circle,” Sonny ordered. “If you use a wand, have it ready.”

The Crafters held strong and focused on their task, even as the two men in charge of safeguarding the orb disappeared into the soil. Only seven of them left, but seven was enough. When the ground began to swell beneath their feet, Sonny knew their summoning was working. The earth began to convulse like the deck of a ship during
a storm. “Hold fast,” Sonny tried to tell the other soldiers, even though he himself was having trouble sticking to the spell. “It’s working.”

The ground dropped out from beneath his feet
, and Sonny found himself falling as dirt rained down all around him. He sputtered out a quick protection spell to cushion his fall as the floor of the cavern into which he tumbled raced up to meet him. The other men were falling too, and he hoped he’d cast a spell wide enough to aid anyone who hadn’t had the presence of mind to think about their landing.

The cavern they’d unearth
ed was enormous, and hundreds of Vampire eyes glowed in the fading black, watching the Witches tumble. “Not good,” Corp. Popplewell thought to himself as he bounced lightly off the floor and landed on his feet, simultaneously reaching for his crossbow. The odds were easily a hundred to one.

Chapter 14: The Right Kind of Vampire

The odds suddenly looked a lot more favourable when the sun orb tipped over the edge of the newly created crater and plunged into the cavern. Sonny watched it fall. It seemed to be moving so slowly that he had time to speculate what would happen once it hit the ground, seeing that his protection spell had already dissipated. A moment later, he remembered himself. “Look out!” he shouted as he dove for cover behind a stalagmite, curling himself into as small of a ball as possible and pulling his long coat up to cover his head. By shouting, he had warned the Vampires as well as his comrades, but it was a natural reaction, and little good did it do the undead.

The orb shattered as it hit the stone floor of the cavern
, and then there was an explosion of light. Hundreds of Vampires turned to ash like a match touched to silk thread; they were there, and then an instant later, there was nothing but a bit of black smoke in the air. Sonny closed his eyes and shielded his face. Even with his heavy jacket protecting him, he could see a bright orange glow through his eyelids, and his entire body throbbed with the heat. There were horrible screams and wails of pain. Corp. Popplewell wondered if any of his fellow Crafters were contributing their voices to the choir of agony.

The flash of light faded rather quickly, replaced by the growing light of dawn. Whoever of the undead that had survived the explosion fell back, scrambling down the hallways and cubbyholes of the enormous cavern.

Staggering to his feet, Sonny looked around. Large blurry spots danced in front of his eyes, and he had to rub them repeatedly to be able to distinguish anything. He saw the lifeless body of Lieutenant Chomsky a few feet away. They had not summoned the earthquake in time.

Another soldier staggered up to Sonny and the deceased Lieutenant. “What do we do?” he asked Chomsky and then appeared perplexed that there was no reply. “What’s our orders, sir?” he tried again. Half the man’s face was scorched and blistering from the blast, so Sonny didn’t judge him for being a little disoriented.

“He’s dead,” Sonny told the man, gripping his shoulder to steady him.

The other soldier frowned at the lifeless body and then turned his attention to Sonny. “What do you think our orders are?”

“I think we’re supposed to pursue the Vampires,” Corp. Popplewell told him.

The soldier squinted down one of the dark tunnels that the Vampires had used to flee. “I don’t want to do that,” he said, shaking his head. “That sounds terrible.”

Sonny had to agree. “Actually, I’m not sure who is in command now. Perhaps we could just wait for new orders. Check on the injured; that sort of thing.”

“Yes,” his new friend agreed. “That sounds much better.”

With a quick search of the cavern, they found three surviving Crafters, two of whom had lost their vision from the flash. The third was a little charred but nothing too severe.

“Corporal Popplewell,” a voice called from the lip of the newly formed crater.

Sonny looked up, shading his eyes with his hand. “Yes, sir?” He wasn’t sure if whoever was addressing him warranted a sir, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Are there any undead survivors?” the voice asked. Due to the rising sun at the man’s back, he was only visible in silhouette.

“Yes, sir. A couple dozen, I believe,” was Sonny’s reluctant reply.

“Well, what are you standing around for? Get in there and flush them out,” the silhouette ordered.

Sonny squinted up at the man some more. “We were waiting for reinforcements,” he said, intentionally leaving off the “sir” to see if it registered.

“Oh,” the man said, sounding a little less authoritative. “Um… yeah. Those are coming.”

Sonny had to assume, and probably correctly, that whoever was at the lip of the crater was just another dogface who was hoping that someone else would deal with the undead while he could relax in the relative safety of being above ground.

There was the sound of numerous footsteps moving at a good clip. The silhouetted man looked around and then quickly disappeared from view; a new figure
took his place. “State your name and rank, soldier,” the figure commanded with the air of someone used to being obeyed without hesitation.

“Corporal Sonny Popplewell.”

“How many Crafters are with you, and how many bloodsuckers are still in the cave?” the man wanted to know.

“There’s five of us,” Sonny reported. “But two can’t see right now. The rest of us are a bit burnt. As far as Vampires, I have no real way of telling how many were in other parts of the fortress when the sun bomb went off. A couple hundred got killed in the explosion
, and I think a few dozen fled into the recesses of the cave, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.”

The new man in charge retracted his head from the crater’s lip. A few moments later
, rappelling ropes were dropped, and Witch soldiers started descending to join them. “Thank Goddess,” one of the survivors in the cave murmured.

Other Crafters floated down on puffs of air or other magical conveyances. These men were in full battle gear and looked ready to fight. They weren’t the green platoon that had been sent into the field to be slaughtered. Sonny instantly understood that he and his fellow soldiers had been sent in as bait. It made him angry beyond words, which was a good thing because if he could speak, he probably would have ended up court
-martialed.

Sonny recognized his new commander
—Captain Somebody-or-other. He was too furious to remember the man’s name, but the gist of his orders was that they were to flush out and stake every last Vampire in the cavern.

Corp. Popplewell was probably not an ideal candidate for military service. He had the bad habit of thinking too much for himself. That made him a good forward scout but a bad soldier. Staking Vampires en masse right before a ceasefire was declared felt vindictive in a way that was not within Sonny’s nature. “Who is going to tend to the wounded, sir?” Corp. Popplewell asked with the strong hope that he and his fellow survivors would be assigned the task. They were, after all, a little shell shocked.

“You and you.” The Captain pointed at his two sunburnt compatriots. “Take care of these fellows. Popplewell, you take point to show us which way the bloodsuckers went.”

Sonny had to suppress a sigh. It figured that he would be called upon to lead the charge. As if he knew the twists and turns of the cavern any better than anyone else. “Yes, sir,” he said, trying to keep the grumble out of his voice.

Finding his crossbow on the ground, Sonny nocked an arrow. “They all scattered,” he said. “But most of them headed this way.” Corporal Popplewell started walking down a large tunnel through which the Vampires had fled. He didn’t enjoy being the bulls-eye on a target, and he wasn’t all that interested in dying for a cause he really didn’t believe in, but at that moment, he couldn’t see that he had any other choice but to start moving.

The tunnel was wide enough to fit seven Crafters walking abreast, but instead of walking beside him, the troops crowded in behind him, effectively using Sonny as a very ineffective shield.

There was a distant noise that sounded like someone shaking out a rug. It grew quickly louder, additional rugs joining the chorus. And then, suddenly, a swarm of black bats burst upon them, flooding down the hall like a spilled bottle of ink. The creatures were madly beating at the air with their claw-tipped wings and making sharp chirping noises like amplified crickets. The soldiers, all battle-hardened veterans, began shrieking and slapping at the bats like a spinster on a table because she saw a mouse.

Sonny saw his opportunity. He wasn’t thrilled about being pummeled with hundreds of bat wings, but he wasn’t undone, either. While everyone else was distracted, he quickly slipped down a small offshoot he’d spied along the side of the tunnel. Corporal Popplewell
had had his fill of being a pawn in the Witch army. Someone else could lead the continued assault on the Vampire fortress. He figured he would make up a story about being temporarily knocked unconscious during the bat melee.

The offshoot turned out to be more like a hole. Sonny found himself tumbling down a gravel
-covered chute and hitting the ground hard, his crossbow skittering across the floor. Even though the wind was knocked out of him, he quickly scrambled to his feet. By taking the small passage, he had unwittingly placed himself in an even larger cavern that was obviously some kind of gathering room for the undead. Fortunately for the longevity of Corporal Popplewell, the room appeared to be empty of any of the enemy.

Enormous stalactites dripped down from
the vaulted ceiling to the stone floor, giving the impression of ornately carved pillars. There was a raised platform in the center of the room covered in a crimson fabric and illuminated by dozens of candelabras. Sonny took it to be some type of altar. Striding quickly across the floor, Sonny bent to retrieve his crossbow. The bats hadn’t unnerved him, but somehow being alone in the enormous room sent shivers up his spine. As Corp. Popplewell stood, fitting an arrow back into his weapon, a small sound caught his attention. He spun around to face the altar and found himself face-to-face with a Vampire.

The creature stood, perfectly still, with a surprisingly relaxed expression on
his chiselled face, looking more inquisitive than bloodthirsty. Frantically, Sonny nocked his arrow and took aim with his crossbow, knowing all the while that his movements were like oozing molasses to a Vampire ready to strike. He was already doomed.

But the Vampire did nothing; he just stood there as if expecting to be staked and not really minding the idea. Sonny found himself hesitating as he wondered what his enemy was waiting for. His finger was on the trigger of his bow, but he somehow found that he couldn’t fire. It just seemed so unsporting, like the English Mortals and their beastly foxhunting. Sonny always found himself on the side of the fox.

The longer they stood there, the more ridiculous it seemed that they would want to kill each other. Sonny was a bit baffled as to what to do. The Vampire gave no indication that he had any hostility towards the Warlock at all. Finally, Corp. Popplewell just shrugged and lowered his crossbow.

“Sorry for dropping in on you like this,” Sonny said. It always felt so rude to be part of an invading army.

The Vampire’s lips twitched. “I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting you, or I would have put out some refreshments.”

Sonny couldn’t help but feel his own lips begin to turn up at the corners. “I’m afraid there are quite a few of us coming in behind me,” he said apologetically. “They’re all upstairs somewhere right now.”

The Vampire frowned. “I might be able to scare up a bottle of sherry.”

Corporal Popplewell found it impossible not to laugh. The Vampire smiled in return
, and there was the surreal feeling of being forced to share a compartment on a crowded train and finding that you were in rather good company. “I’m Sonny Popplewell,” he said, half extending his hand to be shook but not sure of the etiquette.

“Sebastian Du Monde,” the Vampire told him. He looked as if he were willing to shake hands too, but, without warning, there was a flash of white doves filling the cave. An instant later
, the birds were gone.

Mr. Du Monde looked around, his brow furrowed. “What do you think that was all about?”

Rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, Sonny replied, “I believe they’ve just declared a ceasefire.”