04 - Rise of the Lycans Read Free

which were more than
ten feet thick in places. Rectangular stone merlons jutted up from the parapet
like a bottom row of teeth. Flying buttresses reinforced the walls. Massive
siege crossbows the size of catapults were mounted upon the outer palisade.
Steel harpoons more than ten feet long were loaded into the formidable weapons,
which were also known as ballistas. Steel winches were required to draw back the
bow arms.
    A slender youth, no more than fifteen years old, stood poised upon a parapet
overlooking the drawbridge below. Dark brown hair fell past his shoulders.
Coarse woolen clothing testified to his lowly status in the castle’s hierarchy.
His dirty brown tunic and breeches were torn and frayed. Piercing brown eyes
peered out from a handsome face that had yet to require the touch of a razor. A
brisk autumn wind rustled his unkempt locks. He gazed past the rampart at the
precipitous thirty-foot drop before him.
    Don’t look down, Lucian thought.
    Despite his sage advice to himself, the young servant could not resist
peering down from his elevated perch atop the castle’s outer walls. The
drawbridge below looked impossibly far away. Any mortal man who attempted to
leap from this height would be smashed to pieces for certain.
    Thankfully, Lucian was no mere mortal.
    I can do this, he thought. Lord Viktor expects me to.
    He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, closed his eyes, and stepped off
the parapet. Gravity seized him and he plummeted downward at breathtaking speed.
The night air rushed past him, roaring in his ears. His eyes snapped open in time to see the hard wooden floor of the
drawbridge appear to surge up at him like a battering ram. His brief,
inconsequential life raced before his eyes as he feared that he had fallen
victim to some cruel joke on the part of his undead masters. Would it amuse
Viktor and the others to see his brains splattered across the mountainside?
    Perhaps.
    It’s not fair! he despaired, only heartbeats before hitting the
ground. I haven’t even begun to live yet!
    He braced himself for death, only to land nimbly upon the drawbridge in one
piece. The impact didn’t even knock the breath from his body, let alone kill
him. He glanced down at his intact flesh and blood in astonishment. He gasped in
relief.
    I did it! he rejoiced. Just like Viktor promised!
    His jubilation was cut short, however, when three beefy ruffians emerged from
the shadow of the castle’s high front gate. Lucian recognized the men as mortal
laborers employed in the ongoing expansion of the fortress’ dungeons. Their
unwashed hides had been baked brown by the sun, compared to the paler
complexions of the castle’s more nocturnal inhabitants. Dried mortar splattered
their filthy garments. Iron bludgeons in hand, they charged at the unarmed
youth. Angry shouts and florid red faces made clear their hostile intentions.
Their breaths reeked of strong spirits.
    Lucian had no idea what he had done to incur the men’s wrath, but he did not
intend to be beaten senseless by the likes of these. They were just mortals,
after all, and mere commoners to boot, not vampires whose harsh discipline he
might be expected to submit to without resistance. Although he was nothing more than a serf himself, Lucian
owed no deference to these drunken louts. A growl escaped his lips as he dropped
into a defensive crouch. His brown eyes turned cobalt blue.
    The men spread out around him, clearly intending to assault him from all
sides. The first man—a bald-headed lummox with a neck like an ox—came at Lucian
from the front. He swung his club at the youth, who ducked beneath the blow and
butted his head into the human’s chest hard enough to crack the man’s ribs.
Gasping in pain, the man staggered backward. His club flew from his fingers and
Lucian effortlessly snatched it from the air. He smacked it against the man’s
skull, dropping him to the ground, even as he heard the second man—a
sallow-faced