The Salutary and Ineffable Bond of the Dragon’s Claw was one of the very few groups of ninja that operated outside of the grand isolation Dai Nippon cloaked herself in; it was also one of the even fewer that made its members receive a brand. This mark of ownership was burned into the flesh of each member on the inside of their left wrist and constituted positive identification, as no one would be fool enough to try to fake it, since such an effort would swiftly bring about a painful end for those who essayed it.
Now, Reynir had no idea just how or why Mister Mikkel knew the brand by sight, but he accepted the massive mate’s word that the above was a true and correct description of the signification of the mark that marred almost every one of the bodies that Reynir and Mister Mikkel were currently trying to decapitate in a timely manner. When Reynir ventured to inquire of the taciturn mate how he thought the vampire had overcome so many trained killers, Mister Mikkel only replied, “Conservation of ninjutsu,” which left Reynir none the wiser.
“I still think that burning the bodies would be just as good a way to keep them from rising, and take less time and effort to boot,” Reynir grumbled as the men moved the next body in the queue to where the two mates stood waiting for it.
“I’m sure you do,” Mister Mikkel replied dryly, “but that doesn’t make it the truth. The creatures that we are trying to keep these poor devils from becoming are known to be able to turn themselves into a cloud of noxious vapors and reconstitute themselves in supposedly human form afterwards, so burning them would seem an exercise in futility in light of that.”
That reminded Reynir. “By the bye, did you ever find out what name this ship sailed under, and what land she came from?”
Mister Mikkel grimaced. “No.”
This did nothing to reassure the young redhead…
*
The coffin stowed belowdecks had been very cunningly hidden; thus, it was not particularly surprising that the men from the Sea-Lynx hadn’t found it in their first few searches, and especially since they were primarily looking for things they could use as stakes. When night fell at last, the coffin creaked open…
*
The bulk of the mob chasing Reynir across the deck of the other ship and away from the gangplank joining the two ships was made up of the head vampire’s slaves rather than being vampires in their own right; this made them little more than zombies to Reynir, as they were simply exsanguinated corpses reanimated to serve a malevolent master and with no will of their own. Of course, this made no difference to the fact that Reynir had to elude them or die.
Reynir managed to slip through a narrow chink in the wall belowdecks to bypass a locked (or jammed, or whatever) door, but while this stopped the vampire’s pawns, the vampire itself kept up the chase. Fortunately, Reynir’s maneuver had given him just enough of a lead for him to duck into one of the compartments further along and secure the door behind him.
His breath still ragged from the flight, Reynir felt his heart hammer in his chest as though it were eager for the creature of evil lurking just beyond the door to come and consume it. Letting out a long, slow breath, Reynir closed his eyes and sent out a wordless plea for help…
*
The head of the vampire trio that had been the death of the ship currently snuggled against the Sea-Lynx hovered outside the cabins at the stern of that redoubtable ship, staring hungrily at the sleeping forms behind the glass…
*
You hear the door slam
And realize there’s nowhere left to run
The song that hit Reynir’s ears like a fusillade was in English, but he somehow understood every word of it nonetheless. When he opened his eyes, Reynir saw that the song was coming from a squat little metal thing that Reynir knew was called a ‘robot’, though again he had no idea how he knew that. Atop the robot’s battle-scarred carapace, the vibrant figure of Sigrun the Valkyrie practically glowed out at Reynir despite the gloom of his hiding place.
You feel the cold hand
And wonder if you’ll ever see the sun
The horrible head of the horrible horde that had been hunting Reynir burst through the door just as the robot deployed a truly impressive array of blades and oriented itself in a pose suggesting that it meant to defend the human against the monster.
You close your eyes
And hope that this is just imagination
For a long moment, the vampire checked itself; Reynir wasn’t sure why at first, but then he noted the vampire occasionally making moves to the left or right in an effort to ascertain whether the robot could detect the movements, and another bit of lore popped into his mind: robots might not be able to see the undead like this one.
But all the while
You hear a creature creeping up behind
You’re out of time
At last, the vampire struck, certain that the interposed robot would be no problem for it…
…which was the last mistake it ever made.
Cause it’s the THRILLER
THRILLER night
Some part of the vast array of slicing and cutting blades the robot brought to bear must have been plated with silver, because the vampire fell to its foe like grass before a mower.
A second later, the robot flashed a pair of violet lights at Reynir and vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving only the bits and pieces of its foe behind. The mostly intact head glared at Reynir with impotent malevolence, since the robot had stapled its lips shut…
