Chapter 297: Lessons Written In Blood and Fire
"Let me teach you what the Fangs of Death does to men like you."
With a flick of an elongated fingernail, Nyrielle spilled a drop of blood from the tip of a finger before flicking the drop of blood across the room where it sailed toward one of Hamdi’s many open wounds.
"Blood Curse: Lethargy," Nyrielle intoned, filling the drop of blood with a swirl of dark crimson energy just before it spattered against the wound on Hamdi’s chest. Instantly, the rich, bloody energy burrowed into his flesh like maggots, drilling into his mussels and leeching strength from his limbs.
Hamdi’s knees buckled and he slammed the point of his heavy-bladed sword into the floor, piercing through the thick rug beneath his feet and sinking more than three inches into the stone beneath it before his blade bound and he leaned on it like a cane, holding himself up with what little strength remained in his body as he struggled to resist Nyrielle’s insidious curse.
"This will not hold him for long," Nyrielle’s voice whispered, seeming to come from a place only inches from Ignatious’s ear. "He’s too old to be easily overcome by myself. I need your help, Ignatious. I need your Holy Flames to weaken him for me when he breaks free of this curse. Can you do it?"
"Mistress, I," Ignatious started only for the words to catch in his throat. Holy Flames? Against Hamdi? Did she think he’d never tried before? He’d never get the chance to finish an invocation! The instant he started, Hamdi would rain down a storm of flesh-rending silvery light that made his currently diminished flames look like candlelight before the light of the full moon.
"I will distract him," Nyrielle’s voice came again. "But I cannot defeat him without your help," she said.
On the far side of the sitting room, standing among the burning books and dark smoke, Hamdi roared in pain and triumph as he wrenched his sword from the stone floor. With a shake of his left hand, a drop of dark, cursed blood sailed into the flames, sizzling as the heat of the fire burned away every trace of the toxic drop of Nyrielle’s blood and the dark magic it carried.
"You think you’re the only one to learn a few tricks from their Eternities?" He sneered. Holding his left arm out in front of his chest, parallel to the ground, the ancient vampire sliced deeply into his own arm with his sword, making a fist and spilling three drops of blood onto the singed carpet beneath his feet.