Of course not. I fought the urge to say something else, but I knew I’d revealed enough already. The commander didn’t need to know anything else about me.
“Are we waiting for men to arrive and protect you from me?” I asked him with a raised brow, turning to the side. The stone building was cool against my back, but it made no difference to my flesh.
“Ah, you’re done talking to me already? Pity.” His voice held no hint of the emotion, bordering on dull. “You’re quite an interesting one. If Mirin doesn’t keep you, I might,” he joked, even chuckling at the idea.
I gave him my cheek, staring out into the empty road. It was dimly lit by overhead lanterns, but a fog was creeping into Silbath tonight, thick and foreboding.
“Say,” he said after a moment. “Do you have a name, vampire? I’m shocked to say I want to know.” I could feel his gaze on my cheek, expectant. “Oh, right,” he said, bemused. “We’re not talking.”
“To answer your question though,” he continued making noise, and I nearly lost control of myself. Was that his goal; to provoke me? “I need no protection from you. I’m only waiting for you to decide if you’re going to run or not.”
I could rip his heart out.
The thought was sudden, booming in my ears. Internally, my body leaped, ready to follow this idea. My throat tightened and the void of hunger opened once more.
Would I ever be satisfied? Or was I damned to this hunger, this ever growing beast to keep satiated?
Something moved in the fog- a figure that slithered from shadow to shadow. The commander hadn’t noticed, still staring at me, waiting for me to do anything.
The figure moved closer, but not towards me. My heart actually jumped in excitement, the stupid thing.
Their arm raised, noiseless, holding the sword out like an extension of their limb. I turned to look at the commander, meeting his eyes. The fog was upon us now, barely kept at bay by the buildings we leaned against.
The human hadn’t sensed the sword at his neck until it actually pressed against it, dangerously close to spilling blood. His eyes hadn’t left mine, but they squinted for a brief moment. “Interesting,” he said.
“Go,” the hooded figure said to me, and I knew instantly who it was. Galan came back for me. A smile actually found my lips, to the man’s displeasure.
Quietly, I moved away from the building, stepping out into the fog, somewhere behind Galan.
“A Hound drawing steel against a royal commander?” He sounded surprised, or appalled. Maybe he’d thought that giving his title would make Galan back off.
“I’ve always hated Mirin,” Galan laughed at the man. “He has no claim or rule over me, and neither do his pudgy commanders.”
I could scarcely see through the fog, but a clash of steel rang into the night, bouncing from walls in a piercing shriek. Metal slid against metal, and the man grunted.
I moved closer, wanting to see their fight. The fog swirled and puffed, disturbed by their movements. Feet scuffled my way- Galan was advancing on the commander, forcing him to back away.
Galan’s hood remained in place, his cloak fluttering around him as he continued their dance. Light bounced from Galan’s sword as he brought it down on the commander, slashing through fabric and flesh.
I could smell the blood that spilled from his wound, sweet and tangy. It clung to the air, begging to be tasted. Did I dare?
“I told you to leave,” Galan said, spotting me. He sounded as though he were merely walking, barely exerting any energy. The commander struggled to keep pace with him, even when his attention was elsewhere.
“Go,” he hissed to me again. “I’ll find you.”
Strangely, I trusted that he would. He’d come back for me, albeit a little late; nonetheless he’d kept his word.
Trust wasn’t something I was used to, even as a human. I’d had few people I could say I knew, and even less I truly cared for. But trust?
The commander was muttering something under his breath as I turned my back to them, leaving them to spar.
I hadn’t made it a single step before I heard Galan grunt in pain, just as the commander bellowed in agony. Spinning back around, I saw through parted fog that Galan had fallen to one knee, a spear protruding from his leg.
Others had arrived, and while the commander laid thoroughly defeated in the street, they surrounded him in numbers. To my utter disappointment, I saw the same man from the Greasy Dog, and he saw me.
Swords were drawn, lethal steel pointed for Galan’s chest. He remained motionless, and it felt like his eyes were connected with mine.
I had a choice.
The vampyr pulled at me to turn back around and leave as instructed, but still I remained firmly in place. Why?
I couldn’t leave Galan. They’d kill him, and it wasn’t his responsibility to even be here, fighting for me.
“Stop,” I said to them, shoes clicking on the man-made ground as I approached them. “Let him go.”
The felled commander sputtered on the ground by my foot, a bubble of blood forming on his lips. I wished him a slow and painful death, for not already being dead.
“We meet again, little vampire,” said the commander Ferlan. He held up his hand, keeping his goons with weapons at bay, but they didn’t lower them. “Serin,” he called the man on the ground. “What say you? Take the vamp and kill the Hound?”
“I don’t give a shit,” Serin coughed, face scrunching as he tried to sit upright. “Get me some damn blood already.”
Ferlan turned his attention back to me. “Do you have a better argument for the Hound? I’m not particularly inclined to let him live.”
“No weapon in the service of Man can kill me,” Galan said, still on his one knee. His hood was still pulled over his head, but I knew the expression he would have right now. He was pissed at me for not leaving. “Leave,” he pleaded.
Keeping my eyes on him, I spoke to Ferlan. “I will come willingly with you to Lonest in exchange for his release.”
Within the blink of an eye, Galan was back on his feet, using the spear that had felled him now as a weapon, slicing across exposed faces as he pushed away their swords. They surrounded him with renewed vigor, but it was clear who was winning.
“Get the vampire,” Serin coughed, finally managing to sit up. His shirt was soaked in his own blood, cloth cut to reveal a deadly wound. “You can’t kill a Hound,” he tried to shout at those who fought Galan, but they didn’t hear him.
Ferlan had drawn his own sword, but he was unable to get through the barrier of his own men. I’d lost sight of Galan, but moments later they began to fall.
The first to die fell back with a sword in his belly, its handle belonging to the men around him. It reminded me of the handles the commanders had, though this was less elaborate, and made of a shinier, silver-like metal.
The next dropped to his knees, falling forward, his head sheared from his neck. More men were arriving, but they were no match for Galan’s speed and skill with his blade.
He moved faster than I could imagine, dancing between outstretched swords and spears. They fell like flies, but still he was outnumbered.
Serin was shouting at the men arriving, pointing at me with a weak arm. I wanted to crush his windpipe and silence him permanently.
Some of them paid him mind and advanced on me with sharp, glinting weapons. Their armor was silver like their handles, the same golden crest on their front. It was shaped like a burning sword amidst a ring of ice.
They were crowding me, and I found myself backing away from them, abandoning Galan. My body sang with power and rage, but I wasn’t sure I could face them all.
The vampyr was furious, insulted that they would dare to threaten me. It writhed in its anger, and I knew a good portion was directed at myself. I was its limitation.
Galan had fought his way through the dozens of men that had charged him, facing off against Ferlan. I was still backing away, and debated calling for Galan.
They were slow to approach me, as if I was more of a danger than Galan. I could hear more of them arriving, but it was me they headed for now. They were on all sides of me, shrouded in the fog.
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There was no escape for me now. I had to rely on Galan to get me out of here, otherwise I’d be killed, or end up in Lonest, then killed. Nothing about Mirin’s interest in vampyrs sounded good, or even forthcoming; there was certainly more to it than that.
I was completely encircled now, weapons of steel aimed for my throat, not my chest like Galan.
“Wait!” I heard Galan shout into the night, a booming voice that commanded others to listen. “I will lay down my steel. Free her immediately and take me in her place. Mirin will be just as interested in me as her.”
The men around me actually paused, waiting for their commander’s orders. “Hold her,” Ferlan demanded, and instantly they obeyed. I didn’t fight them as they held my arms firmly to my sides, three men in steel dragging me forward.
Ferlan still had his sword drawn, aimed for Galan, though we all knew how little it would do. At the sight of me, Galan kept his word, throwing his sword down. It clattered against the stone, and I wanted to shout at him to pick it back up and kill them all.
Surprisingly, no civilians had come out into the streets to watch the commotion. They’d wisely kept to their homes, likely watching from pulled aside curtains.
This moment stuck out to me in a strange way. Too much had happened in too little of time, and I still had yet to figure out what I was, and what I needed to do.
It almost made me wonder if life in Reddon was better than what was out here. I remembered that I was so determined to find better, to find life beyond that damn village.
I’d found it, under many different circumstances, and I felt I’d been fooled- by none other than myself. Maybe it would’ve been better to have been some favored vampyr’s food as it’d been implied to me once. Maybe being a cog in Ascelin’s wheel of life wasn’t so awful.
But I ran away, the silly, emotional human I was. I’d stuck out to the god, and this was incredibly thorough punishment.
Such a twisted fate. I’d pleaded for my child, only to keep my life and lose theirs. I had to kill to survive; to continue to take lives in order to fuel my own.
And worse, that emotional human lived on within me, giving me a soul to grieve over as I continued to destroy it.
But what struck me more than anything- why was Galan here, truly? He was a servant of Death, and though I was a creation made by the god, Galan had no responsibility to be my savior.
Galan knew something I didn’t. Did he know what I was, and was that why he’d left in the first place?
Serin, having leaned back onto an elbow to keep himself up, turned to look at me. Though mortally wounded, he still looked smug, but I was more concerned as to how he hadn’t died yet. He’d bled at least half of his life out onto the stone, permanently staining the spot with his presence.
It drove me mad- the smell. If it were any other situation, I was sure I would have already drank his other half. I could smell the others as well, but his called to me.
Galan stood feet behind the felled commander, Ferlan’s sword pressing into his chest. He seemed unbothered by this, his head turned to look at me, hidden under the shadow of his hood.
“Look at her eyes,” Serin laughed, weak and rattling. “You want my blood, don’t you?” He asked me. Yes, my body responded. “You’re a fledgling after all.”
“Take me in her place,” Galan repeated. “I’m sure your King would be far more interested in a Hound than a vampire.”
“You’re underplaying your hand,” Serin said. “The King would rather have a pure descendant than an immortal mutt.”
I wanted to speak, to yell at Galan to give up and go home. But my throat was still constricted, parched in thirst. The Hound was silent for a long moment before he conceded, saying, “Take me with her then.”
“So you can try and kill us on the way there?” Serin asked incredulously. “No,” he scoffed. “Return to your master and consider this a courtesy. We will not mention your presence in Silbath. Finish your business here and allow us to continue ours,” the commander offered.
“This is my business. It is a courtesy that I ask you to take me with her. You cannot kill me, but I will kill all of you if you do not take me.” His voice was calm, and I truly believed the threat it held. He’d sworn an oath just then, and from the silence they responded with, they knew it too.
“Why does a Hound care so much for a vampire?” Serin dared to ask. “And why does the vampire care for it?”
“Take them both then,” Ferlan commanded, ignoring his brethren’s imploring questions. “Bind the vampire in silver. Find a cage for the mutt.”
The men holding me didn’t move, but the others followed the commander’s order, departing to find the requested items. I was brought closer to the three of them, my feet hovering an inch above the ground as they moved me.
I felt all of their eyes on me, inspecting head to toe. Galan’s gaze burned against my chest, and I felt the emotions it carried. Anger, worry, and determination.
Years passed in the silence that ensued. I could hear the struggle in Serin’s chest; death was coming for him, and not much time was left. Ferlan was content to remain quiet, and I wanted to believe it was from embarrassment.
They’d won tonight, but only because Galan had allowed them to. He permitted his own capture when mine was unavoidable.
I felt the vibrations before I heard the clopping hooves approaching us. Several burning torches swayed in the fog, distant but getting closer. Chains jingled, chiming in the night as they were jostled by their moving host. It was a struggle to swallow the pride and anger that rose within me.
Galan must have a plan. And I would have to trust that, no matter how I personally felt about believing in someone else.
The clatter of noise became harder to ignore, and it almost made me laugh. It was ridiculous to me, in a way I couldn’t place. The tense stillness broken by stupidly loud and obnoxious noise.
“We should just leave the Hound. He’s bluffing, Ferlan. His orders can’t possibly be to protect one damn vampire.” Serin hissed to his companion, but it was barely heard over the approaching commotion.
“I’d rather not take that bargain, and I believe he’s right. The King will be pleased once he gets to question the beast.” Ferlan wasn’t willing to listen to his companion, and he turned his attention to the torches.
The flames emitted glowing circles of orange light, highlighting the misty, dense fog. Another storm would be coming, just as the sell-swords had said days before.
Serin remained quiet after that, giving up on his attempts to leave Galan behind. Was he afraid of Galan?
It also made me curious as to what Galan was. Man could not kill him, but according to Serin, they could kill me. Silbath carried a sensitivity, a hesitance when it came to Galan. They feared him, feared what he could do.
Moments later, the departed men made their reappearance, some holding the leads of horses, the others with weapons drawn and torches held high above their heads.
“We leave immediately,” I heard Ferlan say to the arriving men. “The others can wait another few days.”
Ah, I thought. This was to be a spectacle, but the commander looked nervous. He was eyeing Galan every few moments, as if he was waiting for him to move.
“We’ve made enough noise, Ferlan. Might as well grab the fledglings before they can leave and terrorize another town,” Serin argued from below, stalling the waiting soldiers. Serin’s lips were stained with his blood, a stripe of it smeared across his face from an attempt to wipe it away.
“No,” Ferlan said, finality in his tone. “Do you want more Hounds to arrive?” He shook his head and continued before Serin could answer. “No,” he repeated, driving home his point. “We will not be waiting for anything.”
The Hounds weren’t that scary, I thought. I’d survived them as a human, though they weren’t afraid to kill. A memory of Fiona flashed in my mind, mouth wide open as she fell, an arrow stuck through the back of her head.
She’d been a vampyr, but she’d died as easily as a human.
“Do I have to say it again? Get going,” Ferlan snapped at the troop, all traces of the annoying man gone. It’d been another facade, for he’d nearly changed before my eyes. I could truly believe that this man was a commander, meant to give orders to others.
“What of the fledglings in the inn, sir?” A voice asked, hesitant to speak out. I realized it was one of the soldiers, his body angled to indiscreetly point at Galan.
Ferlan turned his attention to the one who had spoken; a torch bearer in full armor, his helmet held snugly in his armpit. A hardness had settled over his features, cold and calculating as he simply stared at him.
The communication was unheard, but it was more than clear. Shut up.
A moment later, the torch bearer dipped into a bow, wordless as he held it for several seconds before rising once more.
Galan’s eyes hadn’t left me- I could still feel the heat in his gaze, but I wouldn’t betray his attention by looking at him. Something had happened while he was gone, and now I wasn’t sure when I’d find out what it was.
Why? I wanted to ask him. For everything, anything I could think of. My hands balled into fists, and I debated fighting the three men that held me.
And then what, Claudia? I could practically hear Galan, even imagining what his tone would be. It was a fair question, and I didn’t have an answer.
We had the entirety of Silbath’s attention, and any soldiers stationed here were on their way to the scene. Ferlan was anxious to leave, pacing as he watched from a safe distance away from Galan.
Galan, for his credit, was cooperative, even when they pushed his head back with a long spear, its blade nearly as long as my forearm. He allowed them to push and jab at him, leading him toward a cage wagon I’d only seen used for animals.
He had to bend and dip his body to fit through its entrance, and once inside, he only had space to sit. The cage was composed of thick, metal beams that overlapped into a square, with gaps large enough to fit a hand through.
The hunger had left me in place of determination. Galan has a plan. I trusted that this was intentional, and we’d find a way out.
My attention was still on Galan when I noticed Ferlan kneel next to Serin, discreetly handing him something. Ferlan had placed a hand on the felled commander’s shoulder, leaning in to murmur words I couldn’t hear over the noise made by the cage’s door slamming shut. A soldier was taking his time to slide its locks in place, ensuring Galan knew it was locked.
I was too distracted to notice in time, but there was nothing I could have done.
One of the soldier’s wielding a spear had reared back, gathering his energy before driving it through one of the cage’s openings. It went straight through Galan’s chest and out of the other side of the cage, now soaked in Galan’s crimson blood.