The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

Around the side of the house, the roof descended close to the street. I jumped, just catching the edge of it with my fingertips, and hauled myself up. From there I climbed until I was near the roof’s peak, where I knelt and readied my bow. I took half the arrows from my quiver and jammed them into the soft wooden shingles of the roof. Another I held loose in my right hand, ready to fire.

The sun had been down for nearly an hour when we heard them.

First there were cries of alarm from the north end of town. The guards on the walls had seen them. We had left the gates open. There was no point in closing them when the vampires could leap over them anyway.

The cries of alarm spread, coming from different directions but always moving south towards us. That was good. It meant the vampires were not stopping for anything, and none of the townsfolk had been drawn into fights. The battle would happen here, in the street in front of the hideout, as we had planned.

And then, at last, we saw them.

Two of the pallid, twisted, screeching creatures burst into sight at once, a distance down the street straight ahead. One had a narrow, jutting jaw and teeth that stuck out from between its lips, and the other had massive arms, thicker than my legs. For half a heartbeat they paused, sniffing at the air.

“Biter,” I called down to Mag, pointing to one and then the other, “and Shoulders.”

She glared up at me. “They are not pets.”

“Oh, come now. Would you not love to take one home?”

The beasts focused on the door of the hideout, and on Mag standing before it. She hefted her spear. Oku bristled and growled.

The vampires screamed with fury and hunger as they charged.

My right hand moved in a blur, nocking, drawing, loosing. They did not expect the first arrow, but my aim was imperfect. The arrowhead nicked Biter in the arm, but no wood pierced its flesh, and it hardly seemed to feel it. After that they kept an eye on me, and they dodged every shot.

In no time they had reached Mag, and a deadly dance started on the street. By Mag’s side, Oku snapped and snarled as he tried to catch hold of Shoulders, but it moved too quickly. Mag slashed and weaved, looking for an opening. The vampires kept trying to push past her, attempting to reach the building, but she managed to stop them. Twice when they tried it, she scored a hit with her spearhead, but not deep enough for the wood to penetrate the skin.

In the space of a few moments, I realized I would not be able to get a clean shot from my position on the roof. I scanned the streets all around the building instead—when more vampires came, I would be Mag’s first warning. And the other townsfolk—not to mention the constables—should be coming soon, once the rest of the vampires arrived.

But in watching the streets, I forgot the rooftops.

I caught a flash of moonslight on Elf-white skin. That was the only warning I had before the vampire launched itself through the air, flying from the next rooftop onto my own. I managed to catch its wrists and keep its claws from sinking into my chest, but the momentum bowled me over. We tumbled back onto the rooftop, sliding down the wooden shingles, which shook me hard enough to jar my very bones.

At last I managed to tumble, kicking the vampire off me and slowing my headlong descent. I had my sword in hand before I got to my feet, and I fell back into a defensive position. My bow was up near the roof’s peak, useless, but I had a few arrows left in my belt quiver. Slowly I drew one, trying not to move suddenly and provoke an attack. The vampire hissed, but it hesitated, studying me through its beady black eyes. A mottled pattern of black spread across its face, outwards from the nose like someone had thrown an ink pellet straight between its eyes.

“Inkstain,” I told it. “That is what I will call you.”

Inkstain snarled and lunged just as I got the arrow into my hand.

Twice I fended it off with my sword, trying desperately to find a chance to sink the arrow into one of its swiping limbs. It was impossible. The creature’s speed was beyond comprehension. The only thing that saved me was that it recognized the danger of the wooden arrow, and that made it cautious in its attacks. I could not begin to understand how Mag managed not only to match them, but beat them. It took all my mind’s panicked, animal instincts just to keep me out of reach of its claws.

Then a shingle gave out under Inkstain’s feet. It went crashing down, and it grabbed wildly for something to hold onto.

“Something” turned out to be my leg.

We slid down the roof again, and this time we could not stop our descent before we pitched over the edge. I went over first. For one moment I knew weightlessness. My heart felt as though it wanted to pound my guts until they were unconscious. Then I came slamming down on top of a market stall that had been set up against the side of the building. The cloth enveloped me, breaking the fall.

I scrambled out of the tattered, brown fabric just in time. Inkstain came down right where I had been. The market stall collapsed, and the vampire vanished amid the cloth. Its screams redoubled as it thrashed. I saw a clawed hand burst out of the fabric.

Abandoning my sword, I took an arrow in each hand and leaped, plunging them into the flailing mass. Both darts bit flesh, and Inkstain’s screams turned from rage to pain. One iron-hard limb smashed into my head, and I fell back onto my rear, my ears