Lich for Hire

Heki Stone had made this trip to show off.

Rewriting the continent's historical record—specifically, the most consequential period in recent memory, the Dragon War—was the kind of achievement that would send tremors through every scholarly circle that existed.

He had expected admiration. What he received from the members of the Elegiac Society was polite indifference.

He couldn't really blame them. Aige was roughly as old as the Dragon War herself. Gareth and Alabastra were younger, but reading the chronicle still felt to them like reading someone else's diary, and not a particularly well-written one at that.

The timeless existence of the undead meant that history was lived experience. What Heki Stone had labored to compile was, from their perspective, roughly equivalent to a stack of old newspapers from a period they dimly remembered.

The only person who understood the tome's actual value was that greedy, shameless lich—and even he wasn't impressed by the scholarly achievement. He just wanted to steal the credit.

That insufferable lich!

Heki Stone poured himself a measure of githark blood and took a contemplative sip. It was metallic, with something unusual underneath, interesting enough to keep drinking.

But dragon blood was still better. That was the real thing: blood dense with magical energy, exactly what a vampire appreciated.

Which brought him back to the irritating fact that the dragons were done for, all thanks to this lich. Typical. Dragons were worth a fortune. Even grass grown in soil fertilized with dragon dung was valuable, but they'd had no way to connect with any buyers.

Their specialties had been piling up uselessly. The only reason Gareth had managed to save any private funds over the years was because the Elegiac Society had helped sell some of their goods.

Now that the lich had monopolized the supply chain, the price of dragon blood was going to be extortionate within the year.

Unable to tolerate watching Ambrose and Alabastra cheerfully negotiate the logistics of selling dragons by the part, Heki Stone headed to the shore, beach umbrella in hand, to look at the ocean.

Sunlight was deadly to vampires, and could kill them at a touch. Heki Stone slathered a thick layer of sunscreen on himself, put on sunglasses, and stayed beneath the shade of his umbrella. All that, in addition to the sunlight-dampening illusion on the island, made him barely able to enjoy his view of the ocean.

On balance, Heki Stone thought it was a reasonable trade. At least he wasn't like a lich, locked into one obsessive pursuit for eternity. A vampire could have many interests, and he was, in his own estimation, considerably more interesting to be around than most undead.

"Gold-obsessed fool," he muttered at the ocean. "You can spend eternity counting your gold coins, while I'll spend mine actually experiencing things."

He picked up a stone and threw it. It skipped across the surface in a long arc.

He watched it go. The annoyance went with it, mostly.

Then one of the ripples it passed over caught his attention. He was on his feet before he'd consciously processed why.

Streams of blood-red energy materialized in the air in front of him and plunged into the ocean in the form of dozens of crimson bats.

Seconds later, a dark shape surfaced.

"An orc?"

Heki Stone was genuinely puzzled. This island was saturated with undead. What was an orc doing here? Wasn't he afraid of dying?

Kalgore Kruman was equally startled for a different reason. He had been moving through underwater shadows, a technique that was effectively undetectable under normal circumstances. This bundled-up figure had not only detected him but had somehow forced him out of the shadow-space entirely.

How? And how had he spotted him in the first place?

He had been drifting at sea long enough to lose track of time. To think the first island he found would be occupied by something that countered him... What poor luck.

That said, he hadn't ever eaten a dwarf before. Kalgore Kruman decided to remain open-minded about the culinary possibilities that had opened up.

Heki Stone was already composing a message in the Necromantic Codex.

[Human-Hater: There's an orc on your island. What's going on?]

[Megaman Tiga: Everyone who's showing up here is an enemy of mine. If it's just one orc, handle it yourself. Get Milena to kill him if you can't be bothered. I'm busy with something important right now.]

Ambrose was deep in discussion with Gareth about the most efficient way to monetize the dragons' resources. This was not the time for distractions.

Heki Stone scowled. "The God of Wealth must genuinely be blind for not taking you as a chosen," he muttered.

Heki Stone put the Codex away and looked at the orc floating in the water with interest. Why not get some exercise? He might seem like a scholarly historian, but he was still a legendary vampire.

When was the last time he'd been in a real fight? That Elegiac Society excursion into the Umbral Depths, which had mostly consisted of beating up things substantially weaker than himself.

This orc's abilities looked like they'd be completely countered by his own. That made him a perfect warmup. And from experience, blood taken from a properly warmed-up opponent tasted noticeably better.

The dwarven vampire hovered in the air and crooked one finger at Kalgore Kruman.

Kalgore's eyes narrowed. He didn't have any specific intelligence on this dwarf, but he could read shadows.

Shadows were constant companions, and each one carried significant information. He could generally read people's characters and history just from their shadows.

But the dwarf was holding an umbrella. Kalgore's shadow-reading failed.

What Kalgore didn't know was that removing the umbrella wouldn't have helped. Vampires cast no shadows. Direct sunlight set their bodies alight; they produced light rather than occluding it. There was no shadow to be read.

Still, Kalgore was confident in his abilities.

He hadn't had fresh meat in days. He'd use this dwarf to celebrate finally returning to land.

Kalgore dissolved into shadow again and moved through the underwater darkness toward the shore.

Heki Stone sneered. The orc was using the same approach a second time. Clearly, he hadn't processed what had just happened.

He crushed the bottle of blood he was still holding. The githark blood erupted outward. He caught every drop of it, holding the liquid in place as though it were a handful of tangled thread.

The blood stretched and condensed into a thin blade twice his own height.

Umbrella in one hand, blood-sword in the other, he moved toward the water.

As he reached the shoreline, dozens of dark blades drove upward from the shallows toward him.

His cloak came alive, enveloping him completely. The shadow-blades struck without any effect.

In the gap between attacks, he drove the crimson blade down into the water.

Kalgore could avoid most attacks via underwater shadows, but not this.

The young orc surfaced. The blood-blade through his shoulder actively drew blood from his body as if a drain had been opened.

Heki Stone surveyed his work with satisfaction. "Playing with shadows in front of a vampire... Tell me, isn't that foolish?"

Not every vampire specialized in shadows, but Heki Stone was an exception. Being a historian wasn't sufficient qualification for the Elegiac Society. Every member had real capability, and a specific edge beyond the ordinary. Being a legend was just the minimum qualification.

He let the blade continue its work. Kalgore Kruman felt the blood draining from his body. Within seconds, his body began to hollow out, skin taut against bone.

Heki Stone withdrew the blade and watched Kalgore slip under the surface.

"A waste. You had genuine talent. Unfortunately for you, my abilities were a perfect counter for yours."

He turned back toward the island.

At that moment, the hollowed-out body of Kalgore Kruman dissolved into shadow, and two dark blades drove upward out of the water.

Heki Stone was genuinely surprised. Was he still alive? This was no standard orc. There had to be something else in his bloodline.

But it didn't matter. The cloak enveloped the blades, and they dealt no damage to him.

Then he felt the weight of the umbrella in his hand vanish. The handle was still there; the rest had been cut cleanly away.

Sunlight landed directly on Heki Stone.

He was moving before the first wisp of smoke finished rising, screaming, launching himself toward the shade of the island while simultaneously casting Darkness. Dense black fog erupting around him in a fifty-meter radius, blocking the light completely.

The desiccated figure of Kalgore Kruman surfaced, showing teeth. "You should have mentioned you were a vampire. I don't bother with things I can't eat."

Vampire blood was toxic. There was no point killing something inedible.

Kalgore's logic was simple and consistent: he killed to hunt, and hunting something he couldn't eat was a waste of effort.

Heki Stone's voice was loud with outrage. "What does being a vampire have to do with anything?!"

Several hundred blood-red bats poured out of the fog toward Kalgore.

Kalgore laid himself flat on the water's surface and made no move to resist.

This stopped Heki Stone entirely. He recalled the swarm. What was this orc doing? Was this some kind of trick?

"What are you doing? Get up and fight! I'll show you what a vampire is actually capable of!"

Kalgore's voice was weak. "I can't. I lost. I thought I had you with that last move, but I didn't. I have no energy left."

Most of his blood had been drained. His shadow-phasing had been thoroughly countered. He had no alchemical healing supplies nor magical equipment—he was an escaped slave who had been traveling light and living off what he could hunt.

He closed his eyes.

Dying to prey was something any hunter accepted as an eventual possibility. It wasn't shameful. If it wasn't this vampire, it would have been something else. Eventually, when age took enough of his strength, something would bring him down in the field. He'd known that since he was old enough to understand the shape of his life.

His only real regret was the unfinished business. His family's enemy was still out there. That was something he'd hoped to deal with before the end.

Kalgore's calm unsettled Heki Stone more than aggression would have. He moved closer, studying the desiccated figure, and spoke more quietly than before, "Are you trying to die, young orc?"

"Who'd want to die?" Kalgore's voice was fading. "I just don't get to decide whether I do or not..."

The blood loss was triggering muscle spasms, and he was holding his jaw tight against the pain. "Make it quick. Show me a hunter's mercy..."

Heki Stone produced a replacement umbrella and drifted down until he was level with Kalgore.

He looked at the orc's drawn face for a moment. Then he leaned forward, opened his mouth, and bit into Kalgore's neck.

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