The beating of hooves sounded off like rumbling thunder as the pair of riders raced through the woods, desperate to distance themselves from the Militia who weren't far behind.

"Come on, Duke. Pick up the pace." Mylan called back. "Unless you want the Militia to turn you into food for the maggots."

"You grabbed the fast horse." Duke replied.

"No need to blame the horse for your awful riding." Mylan jeered.

"Maybe if you'd let me focus, I'd ride much faster." Duke spat then glanced behind him. "They're gaining on us."

"Ride faster then, slow poke." Mylan taunted again. A peeling noise could be heard. "Give your horse a kick. She'll speed u-"

"Did you hear that?" Duke interrupted, looking behind him.

"Yes the hooves are quite loud." Mylan responded impatiently. "Eyes forward, Duke. The slope ahead is steep."

Duke caught a glimpse of one of the Militia riders notching an arrow to a bow.

"Stop worrying about them and focus on clearing this hill-"

"Mylan! Look out!" Duke cried.

The arrow flew forward, finding its mark. Mylan flew off of his horse once the arrow connected with his side, sending him tumbling down the hill.

"Shit!" Duke exclaimed before accelerating to catch up with the rolling Mylan. Duke's horse took off running from the moment he dismounted, just as Mylan's had.

Mylan didn't say a word. Duke couldn't imagine the amount of pain he was in at the moment, but the broken arrow shaft protruding from his ribs gave him an idea. Duke's hopes soured. With the Militia hot on their tails and Mylan's injury, they wouldn't make it far. Not with both of the horses gone.

Duke looked ahead. Past the bottom of the hill, he spotted a large wooden shack with a fenced garden. If running wasn't an option then perhaps they could hide. It wouldn't protect them for long if they were to take shelter there, and they would have to deal with whoever was inside swiftly, but it would at least buy them a few minutes before the Militia could intercept them.

"Come on, friend." Duke said, hoisting Mylan onto his shoulder as he made his way towards the shack. "Don't fret. There's shelter just over there."

Duke laid Mylan next to the door of the shack then kicked it open, keeping his sword ready. The inside of the shack was littered with an assortment of various items. Herbs hung from the ceiling along with several other surrounding plants. Tall stacks of old books. Shelves filled with glass vials, jars, and flasks. Some were empty while others were filled with colorful unknown liquids. The inside was crowded, but no person was in sight.

Duke removed the clutter from one of the tables then went to retrieve Mylan, gently laying him on top of the table while allowing the arrow to hang over the side.

"Duke." Mylan uttered weakly, "It hurts so much."

Duke frantically scanned around the shack for something, anything that might help with the wound.

"I'm not going to make it." Mylan concluded. "You need to leave before they get to-"

"Shut up." Duke snapped, cutting Mylan's words short as he rummaged around the shack. "You are not going to die. At least not before you help me get to the city. You still owe me a drink, shitstain."

"Are you seriously still on about that?"

"Yes!" Duke exclaimed. "We would have never gotten drafted if you hadn't tried to steal that keg of ale!"

"Hey, you didn't have to help me." Mylan pointed out. "Just like you don't have to help now if you don't want to die along with me."

"You're not going to die." Duke reiterated. "Just keep breathing and try to relax. I'm going to get you patched up and then we're going to get the hell out of here."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Mylan countered. "You have little more than a minute before the Militia get here."

"Herbs, flasks," Duke began, then gestured around him. "Books everywhere. This place looks like it might belong to an alchemist. Maybe there's something here that can help you. Like a tonic, or an elixir, or..."

"Or a poison." Mylan stated stoically.

The sound of the hooves grew louder.

"Damn it." Duke swore, then proceeded to grab a small red vial from off of the nearby shelf and rushed over to Mylan. " Here. Drink this."

"I'm NOT drinking that." Mylan said. "Do you even know what it is?"

"You're about to die in seconds anyway. We should at least try, on the insanely off chance that it might actually work."

"Oh and here I thought I wasn't going to die." Mylan mocked, producing a scowl.

"Drink!" Duke said, forcing the vial into Mylan's mouth.

Mylan gagged as he swallowed the contents of the vial. Mylan went silent after consuming the vial of red liquid.

"How do you feel?" Duke inquired.

"Cold." Mylan said, eyes fluttering shut.

"Whoa, Whoa!" Duke said, snapping his fingers in front of Mylan's face. "Keep those baby-blues open."

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Mylan said nothing.

"Mylan!" Duke shook him.

Still nothing.

"Mylan?" Duke grimaced. "You still there, old friend?"

Duke dismayed as Mylan became unresponsive. He was certain that it wasn't the arrow that had killed him, it wouldn't have ended him so suddenly. No, rather it was from the potion that he had forced him to drink. He had caused his friend's death.

The sound of hooves and boots hitting the ground grew louder. Duke drew his long sword and readied himself for what was to come.

The door busted open as the Militia entered. Duke took the first warrior by surprise before he could fully enter the doorway, slashing him across the chest with his longsword and pushing him out with a slam of the door. Duke repeated the process for three more men, not allowing even an inch of leeway between the soldiers and the doorway. Duke threw his body weight against the doorway as the Militia began to ram it from their end. The door budged as Duke's strength faltered, knocking him to the floor. The Militia men entered, one of them took the lead and engaged Duke. Duke brought his sword up to meet the soldier's. He countered the first swing of the soldier's sword but not the second. Duke recoiled to the back corner of the shack after the soldier sent his sword flinging out of his hands. The soldier closed in on him, raising his sword to strike once more. Duke shut his eyes and braced for the end.

Two bodies landed on the floor with a massive thud, accompanied by a hoarse scream of pure terror. Duke's eyes were still closed, but he could hear the soldier's boots as he turned to face what was behind him. Within moments he too was crying out in horror.

Duke opened his eyes. He looked around. Fresh blood soaked the floor. He caught one last glimpse of the soldier who had disarmed him look up in terror before being dragged back into the shadows.

A figure emerged within the darkness, saturated in blood. Duke took several steps backwards from it. He ran into the table behind him and then ran into a realization along with it once he noticed it was empty. Instead of distancing himself, Duke approached the figure at the other end of the room.

"Mylan?" Duke inquired.

The figure in the darkness growled in response, but remained in place.

Duke nodded. He went across the room to recover his sword, then approached the doorway, opening it slightly. Duke took position a few paces in front of it and then nodded to the darkness once more.

The door opened as four more soldiers entered the shack. The first soldier had a crest shaped medal attached to his chest accompanied by a firm, steely, gaze. Duke waited for him to approach before engaging. The soldier forced Duke into the back wall of the shack, raising his blade to strike. Duke intercepted the sword with his own, locking both weapons into a clash.

The figure in the dark roared again then snatched one of the other three men by surprise. The second soldier let out a cry of fury and dove into the darkness towards the figure. The figure clashed with the second. Not much was visible, but the tumbling between the two individuals could be heard. Eventually the fight made it into the light as the soldier threw the shadow figure onto the ground with a powerful slam. Before long the soldier had him pinned in an inescapable grapple. Mylan let out an ear-piercing shriek as the light met his face, relentlessly convulsing with all his might against the soldier's ironclad grip over him, like an insect in the spider's web. Doing anything within his power to get back to the dark.

Mylan's piercing scream prompted the soldier attacking Duke to look back for the briefest of moments. Duke took advantage of the distraction and shoved the soldier back causing the crest medal to fall from his chest. Duke held his blade at a low guard and charged full speed at the second soldier. He planted his feet just before reaching the soldier, using the momentum of his charge to pivot his blade into a swing towards the enemy's neck, lobbing its head into the adjacent wall. The dark figure screamed in anguish, retracting from the light upon being freed. Duke took up a position in front of it, directing opposing the two remaining soldiers.

Duke pointed at the severed head. "If you don't want to end up like him. Or them." Duke continued, gesturing towards the other bleeding bodies on the floorboards. "I suggest you turn back now."

The other soldier turned tail and ran out the door in an instant while the remaining soldier stayed firm, readying himself to attack.

Duke gripped his sword in response. "Don't do it."

The soldier grunted through gritted teeth.

"So you're a Lieutenant, eh?" Duke commented, pointing to the fallen crest on the floor where the two of them had clashed. "That explains the bravery."

Another hiss emitted from the darkness. The soldier was startled initially but chose to maintain his posture, bold but nonetheless still frightened.

"You know, my friend here never left any of his victims alive long enough to see what would happen after he bit them." Duke began. "I wonder if they'll end up just like him."

The soldier produced a sigh of reluctant surrender, tossing his sword to the side in defeat before reluctantly facing the door.

"Grab the head." Duke ordered.

The soldier grimaced but obeyed. He exhaled sharply in pure perplexion as he picked the head up from the floor then proceeded out of the shack.

Duke shut the door to the shack after the lieutenant left and approached the shadow figure's corner of the room.

"Sorry about that. Didn't mean to frighten you." Mylan croaked, slightly poking his head out. "I'd show my face, but the light hurts."

"Nevermind that." Duke said. "How do you feel?"

"Thirsty. My throat feels like I ate a bucket of sand." Mylan answered.

"And your wound?" Duke asked.

"Better than my throat." Mylan said. "It sealed right up after I fed on those soldiers. Might be a bit of arrow that's still stuck inside me though."

"You'll live. Alright, maybe we should just rest here for now." Duke suggested. "If they come back through the door again, we'll be ready to flank them. WIth your new strength we should be able to take them."

"Sounds good to me." Mylan sighing out of fatigue as he leaned against the wall.

An hour passed since the two men had heard the thunderous hooves of the Militia horses or the footsteps from their soldiers.

Mylan began extending a cautious finger towards the light.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Duke warned, looking out of the window. "Just wait it out. Maybe the effects will wear off."

Mylan nodded, retracting his hand.

Duke turned away from the window. "There's no sight of them. Everything looks clear outside. I think your fangs managed to scare them off. For now at least."

"What do you think that potion was that you gave me?"

Duke picked up the vial from off of the floor and inspected it. "Vampire blood, maybe?"

"Maybe." Mylan said, then produced a sigh of discontent. "Well, now what? It doesn't look like the Militia will be coming back anytime soon, but we have a new problem now. The horses escaped with our money. Even if we managed to make it to the city harbor without them, we still won't have enough to buy a ticket away from this miserable place."

Duke slowly shifted his gaze from the vial in his hands to a pile of burlap sacks in the corner then smiled. "I don't think that'll be an issue."

"Eh?" Mylan questioned.

Duke grabbed one of the burlap sacks filled with potatoes and emptied them onto the floor.

Mylan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Duke, what are you doing?"

"Reach out with your hand again." Duke said.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"Alright." Mylan shrugged.

Mylan reached forward, placing his hand into the light of the windowsill. Nothing happened.

"No burn." Mylan reported, "I can't feel my fangs either."

"So the effects are temporary..." Duke mused.

"Duke, you'd better start making sense." Mylan grumbled.

"Didn't you say that the first thing you wanted to do once we escaped was to start a business?"

"Yes, but I hardly see how that applies here." Mylan said, puzzled.

"How much do you reckon a man would pay to experience life as a vampire for just an hour?" Duke questioned. He then took one of the flasks from off of the shelf and dangled it in his hand. "Or maybe a dragon, who knows?"

Mylan's expression went from confused to enlightened. "I think you're onto something."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Duke smiled.

"Black market?" Mylan smiled back. "Fuck yes."