The Day of the Dead by Karen Chance

Cordoba steel instead of wood,
making it obvious that this wasn’t going to end quickly. ‘How the
mighty have fallen. That is the phrase, isn’t it? From my
lieutenant to this, all because of ambition.’
    Tomas tried to tell him that ambition
wasn’t the point, that it never had been, but his throat didn’t
seem to work either. Although that might have been because of the
sight that suddenly loomed up behind his former master. At first,
Tomas was sure he was imagining things. But not even in a
pain-induced near faint could his brain have come up with something
like that.
    Behind Alejandro, a withered arm
encased in a few rotting rags appeared, a tracery of thin blue
veins pulsing under the long dead skin. A head followed, cadaverous
and brown, but with two enormous, glittering eyes rolling in the
too large sockets. They stared at Tomas for an instant, full of
terrible, ancient fury, before the arm caught Alejandro around the
waist and a mouth full of cracked and yellowed teeth clamped onto
his neck.
    Alejandro gave one sharp gasp before
the others were on him, a crowd of dry, old bones and tanned
leather skins that glowed slightly from the inside, like someone
shining a flashlight through parchment. And although Alejandro’s
power still surged around Tomas like a hurricane, they didn’t seem
to feel it. There was a crack, a thick, watery sound, and then
silence – except for the ripping, chewing noises coming from the
middle of the once human mass.
    The kings had returned.
    Another pair of feet came to rest
beside him, just brushing his hair. Tomas looked up to see Jason,
slack-jawed no longer, but with a quiet intensity his eyes. It
seemed Alejandro had kidnapped one necromancer worth his salt,
after all.
    ‘ You brought them back,’ he
managed to croak after a moment.
    Jason didn’t look away from the
creatures and their meal. ‘They brought themselves.’
    Tomas didn’t have a chance to ask him
what he meant, because the earth began to move in a very familiar
manner. Jason grabbed him under the arms and pulled him backwards
down the stairs. No one tried to stop him. It was as if the court
was frozen in place, staring in disbelieving horror at the sight of
their master being attacked by supposedly harmless sacks of
bones.
    They made it to the edge of what had
been the holding pen before Alejandro’s power suddenly cut off,
like someone throwing a switch. A ripple went through his vampires
as they felt it too and realized what it meant. They came back to
life with a vengeance, but too late; half the roof collapsed in a
cascade of limestone.
    Sarah and one of her men ran up,
dirty-faced and panting. Forkface grabbed Tomas, yanked the ax out
of his back and threw him over a shoulder. Then they
ran.
    The doorway collapsed behind them,
dust billowing into the air while rocks and gravel nipped at their
heels. The entire tunnel system was buckling, floor heaving,
ceiling threatening to crush them at any moment. His helper lost
his footing and they both went down, Tomas managing to catch
himself on arms that, while unsteady, actually seemed to work
again.
    He grabbed Sarah, attempting to shield
her, at the same time that she grabbed for him. And amid stones
falling and dust clouds choking them, they braced together, Sara
saying things that Tomas couldn’t hear over the roaring in his
ears. But their small patch of ceiling held, and after they limped
across the boundary from the caves to the old temple, the rumbling
gradually petered off.
    They emerged at last into the jungle,
where a mass of dazed people huddled together in small groups under
the dark, star-dusted sky. Forkface dumped Tomas unceremoniously
beside a small pool just inside the temple, where people were
scooping up water in hats, hands or flasks. It was a green and it
stunk, with slimy ropes of algae clinging to sides, and nobody
seemed to mind. Some were hugging, more were crying and one,
amazingly, was laughing. Tomas blinked at them,