Zombies, Werewolves, & Unicorns Read online

  Blue Kingdoms:

  ZOMBIES, WEREWOLVES, & UNICORNS

  Stephen D. Sullivan

  • Walkabout Publishing •

  Smashwords edition.

  © 2010 Stephen D. Sullivan

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Walkabout Publishing

  S.D.Studios

  P.O.Box 151

  Kansasville, WI 53139

  www.walkaboutpublishing.com

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning, or any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author.

  Special thanks to Kifflie Scott, who is almost always my first reader, and Edward Henderson, who is almost always my second. And, of course, Blue Kingdoms co-creator Jean Rabe, always among the first three readers.

  Cover art & design © 2010 Stephen D. Sullivan.

  Get a free wallpaper of these stories at www.stephendsullivan.com!

  * * *

  For Steve Winter —

  Who always enjoys a good horror yarn.

  * * *

  CONTENTS

  THE BLOOD-RED ISLE

  I. The Unexpected Jungle

  II. Death Among the Trees

  III. The Red Queen’s Dungeons

  IV. Sanguinarre’s Throne Room

  V. The Blood-Red Queen

  FESTIVAL AT WOLFNACHT

  I. Intruders at the Gate

  II.Welcome to Wolfnacht

  III. Night at the Inn

  IV. Into the Cold

  V. A Rider’s Life

  VI. Sacrifice

  VII. Wolfnacht

  Samples of Other Stories

  Monster Shark

  Crimson & Dragons

  The Gift of the Dragons

  About the Stories

  About the Author

  Original & Alternate Covers

  THE BLOOD-RED ISLE

  I. The Unexpected Jungle

  “I thought Isla Sangre was supposed to be a blasted rock,” Rik Armstrung said as he stepped ashore. He glanced back at the twelve people disembarking alongside him: nine humans, beside himself—including a derenki—and three basilisks. A rugged crew, for the most part, but the landscape ahead didn’t look like what they’d signed aboard for.

  “Yeah,” the Midknight named Memnon agreed. “This place is as overgrown as the jungles of Kesh.”

  Lush vegetation tumbled down from the island’s mountainous peak all the way to the shoreline. Thick brush and tangled vines sprouted between the crags and boulders lining the water’s edge. An aroma of flourishing greenery and slow decay hung in the air. The isle’s sweltering humidity smothered every sound, even the lapping of the waves against the shore. Though Rik peered hard into the jungle, he saw no sign of the palace they’d come all this way to find.

  Memnon’s fellow Midknight, Antiope, giggled—an action ill-suited to a mercenary warrior. Her deep blue armor seemed inappropriate to Rik as well, exposing far too much skin to really protect her. “Are you sure you’ve got the right island, Baron?” she asked.

  “We’re sure,” Baron Robellar replied. He flashed a cold stare toward both Midknights as he stepped out of the sampan, setting polished boot to rocky shore. “Persha doesn’t make mistakes, do you, Persha?”

  Persha, Robellar’s personal mage, fumbled with her scroll cases and managed a brief smile for her boss. “Of course not, milord. Reifworm and I have followed the trail as faithfully as Al-Shakir follows the stars.”

  Rik looked from the maroon-robed girl to the captain of Robellar’s guard. Al-Shakir was tall, muscular, and obviously very capable; he was also extremely superstitious. Rik wasn’t sure whose judgment he trusted less: Persha’s, Shakir’s, or that of Tel Reifworm, the sea mage who had guided them all to this overgrown rock; none of the three seemed to be sailing with a full crow’s nest. Rik trusted Robellar, though—or, at least, he trusted the baron’s greed.

  “We were lucky to find this isle at all,” Reifworm added, getting out of their small boat. Chun Ping, the expedition’s captain, tied the sampan’s line to a rocky crag, and Reifworm put a binding charm on the rope to hold it in place.

  “It’s only because of Persha’s excellent research that we are here at all,” Reifworm continued. “If she hadn’t turned up a stone native to Isla Sangre, we’d never have been able to navigate through the warding spells set around the island.”

  “We are lucky to get here at all,” Chun Ping said distantly. “This is not a good place to sail.” She gazed longingly toward her junk, moored five hundred yards offshore. The boat’s sails hung limp, as though this entire part of the World-Sea was holding its breath.

  Persha finished collecting her gear, plopped down on a boulder, and wrung out the soggy hem of her gold-trimmed maroon robe. “The Blood-Red Queen’s enchantments have protected Isla Sangre a long time,” she said. “Despite her fierce reputation and considerable occult powers, Sanguinarre didn’t want people to find her island.”

  “Nor did the wizards who killed her,” Robellar added. “The Mistress of Pain had enemies, but her enemies also have enemies. Keeping the isle secret was good for all of them. And, as it turns out, good for us, too.” A smile tugged at the corners of his stern lips as he stared into the jungle, which crowded down the rocky shore nearly into the water. “We all know what we’re here for—and it’s got nothing to do with the late queen’s politics.”

  Zhek, Brak, and Grif, the company’s three basilisk mercenaries, grunted noncommittally. Apparently the lizard-men didn’t understand the baron’s full motivations any more than Rik did. Robellar might want the loot from this isle to secure his position back home, or he might want the fame of having found Sanguinarre’s treasure, or he might have some other unfathomable political motivation. But the basilisks, like the Midknights, Rik, and most of the others in the company, were in this purely for the wealth.

  “Well, I don’t like this place,” put in Lita, the baron’s paramour. Her golden jewelry rattled as she clung to Robellar, and her blond hair hung damply across her smooth shoulders. She seemed to fear that, at any moment, the jungle itself might attack them.

  For once, Rik agreed with the courtesan—even if he couldn’t fathom why the baron had brought her along. Dragging around a concubine defied common sense: there would be plenty of time for debauchery after the treasure had been won.

  Isla Sangre had been a bad place when Sanguinarre ruled it, and it was still bad. Rik and the rest had come to extract treasure from a lifeless crag, and instead found a jungle. That made Rik feel uneasy, too.

  “Tosh!” Wharkun, the derenki, scolded. “It’s just a bloody great forest. True, we didn’t expect to find it, but it’s nothing to be afraid of.” He leaned against the long handle of his battle ax and twirled his great, walrus-like moustache in his thick fingers. Wharkun was fatter than most of his cold-bred kind, and already the northern heat was causing big droplets of sweat to bead on his ruddy skin.

  “The Company of Lian Fyre created this forest,” Persha warned. “I’m sure they didn’t do it merely for show.”

  “Our wizard is rig
ht,” agreed Al-Shakir. “The battle mage and her people never did anything without a purpose. These tangled trees are a warning for those who would defy the Company’s will. They would make such a jungle truly dangerous, in case the queen’s allies returned after the war.”

  Reifworm scoffed. “Izanti and Carnelian Fyre never expected anyone to return here. All of Sanguinarre’s retainers are dead. They died alongside their dread mistress. Without my navigational skills and Persha’s research, we’d never have gotten close to these shores—and I am the best sea mage in this part of the World-Sea. I predict that we’ll find Isla Sangre pleasantly deserted. Look around—not even a bird in the sky or a crab on the shore.” He smiled, showing his crooked teeth.

  Rik didn’t feel sure that the lack of fauna was a good thing. He’d been a pirate and sailed with the Selene navy before turning mercenary, and—in his experience—neither appearances nor advice from hired sea mages could be taken at face value. A glance toward Memnon and Antiope told him that the Midknights didn’t trust Reifworm any more than he did.

  Baron Robellar made a final check of his weapons and equipment; the rest of the expedition did the same. Despite the unexpected jungle, none in the landing party even considered turning back. “Is everyone ready?” Robellar asked.

  “Aye,” the others replied, all save the basilisks, who grunted, and Lita who said nothing but appeared pale and worried.

  “Let’s go, then,” Robellar said. “Persha, which way?”

  The young mage consulted a rough-cut crystal just small enough to fit in her palm and frowned. “This way, I think,” she said, pointing directly upslope. “The charm’s portents are vague, though. Something’s fouling them up.”

  Chung Ping spat. “Bad magic. This whole island reeks of it.”

  “The sooner we find what we’re looking for, the sooner we’ll get back to your precious ship,” Robellar snapped. “Follow me.” Taking the direction Persha had indicated, he began hacking his way into the jungle.

  Al-Shakir followed behind with Wharkun at his side. Lita came next, sticking as close to the two big men as she could. Rik and Chun Ping followed. Then came the two mages, then the Midknights, and, finally, the basilisks.

  The untamed jungle did not easily give way before their machetes. The trees were thick and tangled with underbrush and vines. Rik saw no wildlife as they climbed and cut their way toward the island’s central peak. Nor did he see any game trails or other signs that anything lived on the isle.

  The canopy remained eerily quiet, aside from the rhythmic hacking of the expedition’s blades and the pant of the group’s breathing. No insects buzzed through the air or scuttled beneath their feet. The entire world was green, silent, and oppressively hot.

  When they stopped to rest, Rik had no clear idea of how much progress they’d made. Their hand-hewn trail seemed to close behind them as soon as they passed. The former pirate couldn’t see more than a dozen yards back the way they’d come—nor could he see any farther ahead.

  He noticed Chun Ping glancing back downhill, perhaps seeking a glimpse of her anchored junk. She hadn’t wanted to come on this voyage, Rik knew, but her mistress in the Sisterhood had commanded it. The pirate queens, it seemed, had an interest in Baron Robellar’s fortunes.

  Persha sat on a fallen log, consulting her crystal, but apparently didn’t like what she saw. Reifworm skulked behind her, as though trying to read over her shoulder. “What do you see?” he asked.

  “It’s all very hazy,” she replied. “I don’t understand it. The way to the palace seemed clear during our voyage.”

  “The bad magic is stronger here,” Al-Shakir put in. “Even the stars would not reveal our fates in this place.”

  Wharkun blew out a long breath. “You got your bloody magic number for the expedition, Al-Shakir” he said. “What more do you want?”

  Robellar’s giant bodyguard frowned. “Nine is a bad number for treasure hunting,” he said. “Twelve is much better.”

  “Which is why you invited the lizard men,” Wharkun said, casting a disdainful glance at the basilisks. “I don’t know which smells worse, them or this jungle.”

  Rather than resting, Zhek, Brak, and Grif took the opportunity to open their smelly rucksacks and eat. Scraps of raw fish dangled from their slavering jaws. One of them, Brak, Rik thought, looked up and said. “Fresh meat always best.” As he spoke, fish guts dripped from his sharp teeth.

  Lita turned away, looking even more disgusted than Wharkun did. The basilisks took no notice of their comrades’ distaste.

  Memnon and Antiope sat to one side of the group, whispering to each other. Rik wondered if they, like he, had noticed that the party actually numbered thirteen—not twelve, as Al-Shakir claimed. Of course, the bodyguard had probably not included Lita. Rik couldn’t blame Robellar’s man for that. To Rik, the former pirate, the girl also seemed like baggage.

  “Well?” Robellar asked Persha impatiently.

  “My crystal isn’t working properly,” the mage replied, stuffing the rock into her pack. “According to my research, one of the castle’s hidden outposts shouldn’t be too far ahead.”

  “If your crystal is faulty, how do you know we’re going the right way?” Lita asked.

  Reifworm scowled at her. “The palace is at the peak of the island. So long as we head uphill, we’ll find it eventually.”

  The sea mage’s answer didn’t seem to comfort the concubine. She kept fussing with her hair and trying to wipe the grime off her bare legs. She was dressed even less appropriately than Antiope, though Wharkun didn’t seem to mind the way either woman looked. The big derenki ogled both of them whenever he thought no one was watching.

  Robellar took a final drink from his waterskin and stood. “You basilisks take point for a while,” he commanded.

  The lead basilisk, Zhek, grunted his assent. Rik had conversed with the lizard-men several times during their journey to the isle, so he knew they could understand the baron’s orders. Now that it came down to business, neither Zhek, nor Brak, nor Grif seemed to have much to say. Rik admired the lizard-men’s stolid work ethic.

  The basilisks picked up their machetes and began hacking their way uphill. The baron and the others fell in behind.

  Lita remained sitting on her log, rubbing her gold-sandaled feet. “You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll catch up.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and muttered to herself.

  “Armstrung,” Robellar said, “look after her. Make sure she doesn’t fall too far behind.”

  Rik frowned.

  “I could stay with the girl if you like, Baron,” Wharkun offered.

  Robellar eyed the derenki and shook his head. “Armstrung can do it. Can’t you, Armstrung?”

  “Yeah,” Rik replied. He settled back against a tree trunk as the others forged ahead. Only Chun Ping paused long enough to give him a farewell nod. Her glance seemed to say, “Good luck with your pretty package.”

  Rik flashed the pirate captain a pained smile.

  When the others had passed nearly out of sight, Rik took Lita by the arm. “Come on, princess,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Time to go.”

  For a moment, anger flared in the girl’s brown eyes. She removed Rik’s hand from her arm and began trudging through the undergrowth once more.

  They’d barely gone a half-dozen steps, when a strange, hissing cry pierced the jungle’s silence.

  II. Death Among the Trees

  Rik drew his cutlass and sprinted to catch up to the expedition, pulling Lita along with him. She stumbled twice, so he scooped her up over his shoulder and continued running. The courtesan squirmed, but didn’t actually protest.

  Minutes later, Rik burst through the foliage to find the company stopped in a line along the edge of a narrow chasm. Robellar and the rest peered intently into the fissure.

  Rik put the girl down. “What happened?”

  “The crevasse just opened up in front of us,” Antiope said.

  “Tosh!” Wharkun sco
lded. “This hole’s been here for an eternity. Just look at how the vegetation’s grown around it!”

  “Grown over it,” Chun Ping corrected.

  Antiope scowled at them both. “How it’s grown is not the point, is it?”

  “One of the basilisks fell in,” Memnon said flatly.

  The two remaining lizard-men stood on the edge of the crevasse, peering into the dark shadows below.

  “Should we climb down after him?” Lita asked, straightening her silk garments.

  Wharkun eyed the girl greedily. “Not bloody likely!”

  The basilisk named Grif shook his head. “Zhek lost,” he said in his hissing, reptilian voice. “Didn’t see pit until too late. Keep moving.”

  “He’s right,” Robellar agreed. “There’s nothing we can do except be more careful from now on. There will be plenty of time to mourn the dead later.”

  The speech sounded insincere to Rik, but the others seemed to accept it. For once, the talkative mages had nothing to add.

  “This way,” Brak rasped, taking the lead.

  They moved cautiously to the east until the fissure narrowed to a crack. Then they headed north once more, being careful in case the smothering green vegetation should disguise any more unexpected pitfalls.

  If the loss of their fellow saddened Brak and Grif, the basilisks didn’t show any signs. They kept hacking through the undergrowth, their powerful muscles cutting a wide path for the rest to follow.

  Rik brought up the rear, making sure that Lita didn’t fall too far behind.