Burning Up

with Camar, his second sword. The two men had worked for Korban for ten summers now, and barely had to exchange a word to know each other’s thoughts. Their fellow guards shifted in unease. “I received no such orders.” Milric let his hand fall to his blade hilt.
    Lids veiled glowing orange eyes. “Is the Wizard Lord in the habit of consulting thee on such matters?”
    “If he had been, I would have told him to stay away from you scaly bastards.”
    The second Varil sneered, the lifted black lip revealing stiletto-length teeth. Bits of his last meal rotted between them. “Then get thee gone, git’fe .”
    “You do not order us, lizard.” Milric glowered at the hulking reptiles.
    “Get. Thee. Gone .” His four-fingered hand went to the axe slung across his shoulder as he bared those revolting teeth again.
    Milric cursed softly. He had no doubt the bastard would use that axe if Milric didn’t obey. Damned if he’d risk his life for the king’s lickspittle vampire. Besides, there was mead in the kitchen stillroom, and he had a powerful thirst. He shrugged. “The post is yours.”
    Without another word, Milric headed down the stairs, his men hurrying at his heels.
    “ Git’fe ,” one of the Varil hissed. He didn’t look around.
    Which was why he didn’t see the toothy grins the Varil exchanged before slipping into the vampire’s cell.
     
    R aniero looked up as the door opened—and felt his blood chill in his veins as the two raiders sauntered inside, spiked tail tips twitching in anticipation.
    “Look, my kevil ,” the one with the blue stripe hissed. “A feast all laid out for us. Prime pork.” He flexed his claws and bared a mouthful of stiletto teeth.
    “And still alive to squeal.” The other laughed, sending a fat goblet of spit flying.
    Raniero eyed the two, clamping down on his instinctive terror with the skill of long practice. Fear was what these bastards wanted. “Korban has other plans for me,” he said, his mind racing. A spell. His only chance was a spell. But given the way these chains drained his magic . . . “He will not be pleased to learn you’ve ruined his plans out of sheer pig greed.”
    Blue Stripe lifted his shoulders. “He will make other plans.”
    Which was the reason no sane man allied himself with the Varil. They were incapable of considering any concern but their own momentary whims. They made effective shock troops, but could be disciplined only through fear and the ruthless use of magical punishment.
    Which meant they were going to slaughter him like the pig they’d called him—if he couldn’t defeat his enchanted chains. Raniero took a breath and reached deep into himself, into the heart of his soul where his connection to the Magical All burned like a torch. The cool, bright flame leaped high at his mental touch, responding to his will.
    As the warriors padded toward him, grinning like a pair of demons, he shaped that leaping light into a tight, glowing spear. And flung it at the spell that sealed his chains. If he could break the spell, the chains would be no match for his vampire strength.
    The shining lance struck the spell—and winked out, its power sucked away.
    Blue Stripe gaped his jaws, a rope of drool spilling from his dagger teeth.
     
    A maris’s sated body purred, demanding sleep. Unfortunately, her mind raced in tight circles like a weasel in a trap. She fought to control its flight long enough for logic. So she had responded to the vampire. Well, so what? She was a Blood Rose. Making love to vampires was what Blood Roses did. All she had to do was . . .
    A new thought shot through her preoccupation like a cork bobbing to the surface.
    Why had those Varil raiders been walking up the tower stairs? There was nothing up there.
    Except Raniero’s cell.
    Amaris stiffened on the thin pallet, her breath catching in horror. The Varil were notorious for their vicious appetites. They’d find a chained vampire as irresistible as wolves discovering a staked sheep. And with the enchantment binding him, he’d be helpless.
    She bolted off her bed and grabbed the sheathed dagger that still lay on her bedside table after this morning’s spell. It was little enough weapon against the likes of the Varil, but there was no time to run for the guard. She would have to summon Korban with a spell, and buy time until he could arrive. Assuming it suited him to keep Amaris and Raniero from feeding his lizards. Racing out the door, she sought Korban’s black