Shadow Wolf time! This is part of my weekly writing exercise, written raw and rough. The first story arc, Blade Breaker, can be found here. The first story of this arc, Red Fangs, can be found here. The previous week’s post can be found here.
“So tell me Zavra, did Cinder really think that someone like you could fool us?
Zavra stopped moving, her eyes almost comically round with surprise. Berkhilda chuckled at the other vampire’s expression.
“Wh– What?” said Zavra. “You think I’m working for Cinder? I was left for dead back there, standing in a tub of my own blood. Ragnar, please…”
“It is no use Zavra,” intoned Berkhilda. “We can see the trail you left for the wight to follow. Cinder needed powerful blood to create the serpent that attacked us, but he did not use yours. You are in league with our enemy, there is little doubt.”
“You hate me because I embrace everything that you dislike, Vintul,” snarled Zavra. “You just want me dead because I remind you that most of us don’t see eternal life and youth as a curse. Vradule has blessed us both, the difference is that I can see that.”
“I embrace the honour of my true people.”
“You’re a fool then. We have given you so much more than they have. What would you be without Vradule’s gifts Berkhilda. Would you even be half the warrior that you are now?”
Berkhilda just stared. Zavra’s comment seemed to have struck a nerve.
“Be that as it may Zavra,” I interrupted. “We know that you are working with Cinder.”
“What proof do you have of that?” Zavra asked angrily.
“Firstly the trap that Cinder left you in was incomplete. There was no mechanism that would result in your death. That on its own is not truly incriminating, but coupled with Berkhilda’s observations it is pretty damning.”
“Cinder left in a hurry. How do you know her forgot to set the trap?” said Zavra.
“I don’t. But that did make me suspicious of you. Which got me to thinking that the sewer entrance was locked from the wrong side. You shut it after Cinder left, then strung yourself up.”
Zavra’s demeanor changed then. She went from looking like a scared aristocrat to a defiant rebel.
“Let me kill her,” said Berkhilda, lifting her axe.
“I would rather she take us to Cinder. Bring us to him and we will let you live, what do you say to that Zavra?”
“I hope he kills you,” she snarled.
Berkhilda growled, showing her fangs. Zavra deflated.
“You are out of options Zavra. My friend here is from Clan Furis of Great Clan Bloodaxe; they aren’t exactly forgiving of their enemies.”
“I will lead you to him,” said Zavra. “He has a warehouse in Splinterside.”
“How many men does he have there?”
“Only a few,” answered Zavra.
“She is lying,” said Berkhilda.
“If you lead us to his lair, what do you think Cinder will do to you if they manage to kill us Zavra?”
“He would torture me, then kill me in the most excruciating manner he could think of,” Zavra answered. “I would regret being born.”
“So are you going to be truthful about what we need to kill him?”
“Very well. He has dozens of newly made vampires in his warehouse and a handful of more experienced servants. They have lookouts and most of the entrances are trapped.”
“But you can get us in, can’t you?”
Zavra made a strangled sound. Finally she spat out a single sullen word.