Genevieve Undead Part 29

They ran to the sound, and found where the earth had given way. Doremus was squatting by the hole.

'The mare's down there,' he said.

Rudiger needed no more. He scrambled into the hole, calling for them to follow.

'I can see down there,' Genevieve said. 'You can't.'

Balthus, part-way through some change, fumbled a tinderbox and a candle out of his pouch and struggled with them. His pawlike hands couldn't work the flint. Doremus took the candle, and struck a light to it.

Carefully, they let themselves into the hole. It was about twice as deep as a man is tall, and led into a tunnel.

'This must be an arterial route,' Genevieve said. 'It's tall enough for us, and for the mare.'

There were much smaller side tunnels, cobwebbed over, which neither man nor unicorn could have got through.

'An easy track,' Rudiger said. 'We just follow the broken webs.'

Balthus whimpered as a spider the size of a housecat scuttled out of its lair.

Rudiger took the point of his boot to it, and it squealed as he crushed it against the wall.

Rudiger was ahead again, and they were behind. This was going round and round, hunting the hunter hunting the hunter and being in turn hunted. Genevieve wanted it finished.

The tunnel sloped downwards, deeper into the earth. She hoped the engineers had built to last. Nearer the surface, things were falling apart.

These workings had been abandoned since the time of Sigmar. None of the higher races had set foot here for centuries.

'There's light ahead,' she said, feeling it in her eyes.

'That's impossible,' Rudiger snorted.

Doremus covered the candleflame, and they all saw it.

'Evidently not,' the graf admitted. 'My apologies.'

The mare had headed for the light.

It was cold down here, and wet. Water trickled down the walls and around their boots.

Their way was barred by a sparkling curtain, and the drumming of water was loud in their ears.

'We're behind the waterfall,' Doremus said.

It was true. Genevieve stepped forwards, and put her hand in the icy curtain, feeling the water splash onto her arm and face.

'The mare must have plunged through,' Rudiger said.

It was a pretty sight.

'Come on,' the graf grunted, holding his nose and throwing himself into the water.

For an instant, he was visible in the water like a bug frozen in ice, then he was swept away.

Doremus was startled.

'There must be a way through to the Cleft,' Genevieve said. 'He should come out with the mare.'

Balthus leaped after his master.

'Are you the kind that doesn't like running water?' Doremus asked.

'I didn't think I was yesterday.'

Still, neither of them made a move to the curtain.

'Can you hear the voice in the water?'

Genevieve listened, and thought she could hear something frail and pleading in the rush of the fall.

'I've been hearing that all day.'

'It must come from around here somewhere.'

Genevieve looked about. To a human, this would be almost as dark as night. To her, it was almost as bright as day.

'Douse the candle, I'll see better,' she said.

Doremus complied.

The rock chamber behind the waterfall became plainer. There were murals carved into the walls, depicting Sigmar wielding his hammer against the goblins. It was indifferent as art, but showed some dwarfish enthusiasm.

The noise was a mewling, singing, crying They found her in an alcove, mossy blankets pulled around her, face pale and thin, almost elfin.

'Sylvana?'

The woman didn't answer her name.

'She must be dead,' Doremus said, 'I saw father shoot two arrows.'

Genevieve knelt by the woman, and saw how changed she was. The arrows were still in her flesh, but they had sprouted, grown. Green shoots emerged from the wood, and the fletches were heavy with blossom. Her face was changed too, supple as young bark with a green undertone, her hair was the consistency and colour of moss, her thin arms were wrapped around her soft, pulpy body. She had taken root where she lay, been absorbed into the nook. Where she was, she had water and light.

Genevieve had heard that these waters had properties. As she looked at Sylvana, flowers blossomed around her face.

'Doremus,' Sylvana whispered, her voice coming not from her filmed over mouth but from her breathing nostrils, 'Doremus'

The young man didn't want to get near the changing woman. But she had something to tell him.

Her head raised, neck growing like a branch beneath it.

'Rudiger killed your mother,' she said.

Doremus nodded, accepting what Sylvana told him. Obviously, that had occurred to him.

'And he killed your father too,' Genevieve added.

Doremus' eyes went wide with incomprehension.

XIV.

'Clever, clever,' a voice said behind them.

Rudiger stood, dripping, before the waterfall, his knife out, its blade glistening.

'Doremus,' he said, 'to my side. I have kills to claim.'

Doremus froze, not knowing what to do.

'Serafina?' he said. 'Mother?'

'A wh.o.r.e, like all women,' Rudiger shrugged. 'You did well to grow up without her warping you with her fussing and fiddling.'

The vampire stood up, slowly. In the dark, her eyes seemed to s.h.i.+ne red.

'I waited for you outside, but only the faithful dog came.'

The thing that had been Sylvana shrank, her head sinking into its bed of greenery.

'So I returned.' He beckoned with his knife.

'That's a poor thing, graf,' Genevieve said. 'Where's your other weapon?'

Rudiger laughed, as he did at the height of the chase. He tapped his quiver.

'In with the arrows.'

'Father,' Doremus said. 'What does this mean?'

'You don't have to call me that anymore.'

'It was Magnus,' Genevieve told him. 'I saw it in his face. You have his face.'

Suddenly, Doremus understood his 'uncle,' understood the care he had always bestowed on him, understood the glances he had always given Serafina's portrait.

'He was a good friend, and no more to blame for the betrayal than that fat fool last night,' Rudiger said. 'It was the harlot I married, that was all.'

Genevieve had been creeping nearer to Rudiger, by inches, whenever the graf was paying attention to Doremus. He didn't know which one to help.

'Vampire,' Rudiger said. 'Keep your distance.'

Genevieve stood still.

'How did you know I killed Magnus?' he asked.

'The count was killed with a horn. The mare would have used her hooves as well.'

Rudiger smiled. 'Ah, that's a hunter's observation.'

From his quiver, he pulled out his grandfather's trophy.

'So pretty, so sharp, so dangerous,' he said, looking at Genevieve.

The horn was still red with Magnus' blood.

'I couldn't let him take my heir away,' Rudiger explained. 'The name of von Unheimlich must continue, even if the bloodline is interrupted. Honour is more important even than blood.'

Doremus knew the count had been trying to declare himself as his father. When Magnus was wounded, he had wanted him to know, had wanted him to carry the memory.

'It was eating him inside,' Rudiger continued. 'He would have spoken out in public, taken you away, taken you for his heir. Now, the threat is gone. The family is whole.'

Doremus turned away from the graf, and cried for his father.

XV.