Alistair slammed the doors open with his hulking frame. He and Brianca emerged into the courtyard with the monster not far behind them. The castle’s inner sanctum was still lit by the moon, its position deeper into the horizon now, but at the peripheries there remained a few sets of iron braziers, each smoldering with still-burning firewood. These heavy pots of flame were exactly what the paladins were after. With their flame effects, the two of them could maybe gain the upper hand over the vampire trump card.
Brianca glanced over her shoulder and flinched. “It’s close!” she shouted, whipping her head back to Alistair. Behind them, he heard an enraged screech.
He gestured with his pike. “Get to the fire!”
The Shadow paladin went first, her natural speed getting the better of Alistair’s. He made to join her when something heavy slammed into him. At the same time, he felt something sharp dig itself deep beneath the armored plate, sending tendrils of pain rushing through his chest. Alistair cried out as the force of the impact sent him tumbling forward, the creature still latched onto him, its sharp claws piercing the Aegis armor over and over.
This close, his pike was useless, and while on his stomach as he was, his shield would do no good. Alistair tried to roll over but the creature kept him pinned with its heavy weight. All the while, his vitality drained from every wound he suffered.
He watched as Brianca stopped mid-stride, halfway to the flame. She turned back and saw him there, lying prone with the monster above him, and she instantly started dashing back to help. Alistair wanted to tell her off, to get the fire, but the pain was too great. It took every ounce of strength he had just to stay conscious.
The supplicant was already fast, but for every step she took the bat-wolf thing got another strike on the Aegis. With a flick of her wrist, she sent her dagger flying forward. He felt the attacks on him pause, and he struggled to crane his neck to look behind him. The blade was sticking out from the monster’s neck, and though it wasn’t dead yet, blood flowed freely from the wound, coating the red giant below it with an even deeper crimson.
Before it could understand what was happening, Brianca had leaped onto its back. With a guttural roar, she reversed the grip on her shortsword and plunged it deep into the monster’s back. The beast reacted with a hoarse cry and it shifted its full focus on the other paladin, its long arms struggling to reach around and grab her.
Alistair took this moment to breathe deeply. He stuffed the pain and fear that had invaded his mind to someplace far away. More than just his life was on the line. He rolled around onto his back and thrust his pike forward and up, deep into the monster’s gut. It screeched, and yet still it kept its focus on Brianca as she wormed her sword back and forth, further wounding it.
Suddenly, words began to form in front of him again. The Sight, its powers dulled beneath the vampire’s spell around the city, had returned. It gave him his first piece of information on whatever this monster was—a Protovampire. Some sort of failed hybrid between man and bat, whether from an experiment gone wrong or right, he couldn’t tell for sure.
As grateful as he was for any sort of signal from the Lady, his stress soon returned as he watched the beast’s neck wound sizzle and shut. Like the higher vampires, it had a powerful kind of regeneration. They had to overwhelm it with much more damage, and he feared together they weren’t at a level capable of defeating it through sheer power alone. Again, his thoughts drifted to the fires and he knew that was their only option.
Meanwhile, the protovampire had finally managed to wrap its clawed arm around Brianca. She grunted through clenched teeth as it applied intense pressure, threatening to break her arm. This close and without a nearby shadow, she had no way to escape.
Alistair pulled back his pike and stabbed again and again, faster and with less power this time. His gamble soon paid off as his Knockout ability triggered, stunning the beast for a scant few seconds. It released the black plate warrior and she fell to one knee clutching her arm, both of her weapons still embedded in the rapidly healing monstrosity. He allowed himself to transform into Wind again and, despite his new body in just as much pain as his old one, he forced himself off the ground and ran around behind the monster to grab Brianca.
Together, the two of them began to float above the cold cobblestone ground. Using his ability to fly, Alistair angled them toward the nearest brazier just as the protovampire was released from its status effect. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the beast pause and, in an oddly intelligent way, gingerly remove the bladed weapons still stuck in its hide. It was strange watching the monster be able to set aside its rage so easily, but within seconds it was back after them, dashing across the courtyard at a speed that threatened to overtake the paladins.
With little time to spare, Alistair’s boots touched the solid ground as he put the brazier between them and the protovampire. Despite this, it kept running forward as if unafraid of the flame. Alistair readied his sword, even though he felt it to be a futile gesture against the beast’s regeneration. Without the ability to manipulate the fire, the creature could easily maneuver around it and flank the paladins, and with its insane speed, the protovampire would have no trouble outrunning them.
In mere seconds the creature had closed the gap. If it wanted, it could reach across the flames with its lengthy wingspan and swipe his head off. Instead, the protovampire slowed its pace and strafed around, careful not to get too close to the fiery hearth. This hesitation was sure to go away soon when the beast came to the same conclusion Alistair did, and so he knew that he had to try something else.
He glanced down at the legs of the brazier and, thinking quickly, grabbed hold of one. At first, he thought to tip the whole thing over and try to spill the flames, but he soon realized it to be too heavy for him in the Wind body. Instead, Alistair dragged it over just enough to be between him and the creature again. But rather than use it as a delaying tactic, Alistair tried something especially desperate.
Palm outstretched and aimed right at the beast, he launched a wind blast through the fire. Normally, the wind might offer a mere chance of knockback or be sharp enough to inflict some cuts and slashes but, as Alistair soon found out, when combined with an element such as fire, something even greater happened. The visible wind was converted into a spinning flame wheel and this new elemental combination slammed into the protovampire’s chest.
The fire spread quickly over its hair-covered body, and it screamed so loud Alistair felt his whole body shake, his ears ringing. The beast reeled back, its body resembling a bonfire at this point. It tried desperately to put itself out by slamming into the nearest wall, running its leathery skin over the coarse stone, back and forth, drawing blood as it ripped itself apart.
Brianca and Alistair watched silently, enraptured by the protovampire’s violent attempts to put away the flames. The noblewoman woke from her stupor first, wordlessly turning on her heel and dashing back for her weapons. Alistair shook his head clear. She was right—they were nowhere near done. Even if this beast was on its last leg, they still had an entire keep of vampires left to deal with.
He re-angled himself to where the brazier was between him and the monster again, and he summoned another elemental blast. They couldn’t afford to give it a second chance to regenerate. Alistair had to make sure it was dead. He gritted his teeth as the monster’s howls grew louder, and in his mind, he repeatedly prayed for it to die faster.
Suddenly, the protovampire ceased its struggle. Perhaps it had realized such attempts were futile and had given up. At least, Alistair could only hope that was the case, as he felt his body grow more and more tired with each moment he maintained his mantle form. This extended fight had worn on him, especially after all the wounds he’d suffered. He would have to ration his strength.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the still-burning body of the beast leaped forward as if possessed by a new burst of energy. In no more than a few seconds it was already at the brazier and, either through sheer desperation or lack of fear, knocked the flaming pot over and Alistair with it. The Wind paladin fell to the ground and made sure to land on his back this time, sword at the ready over his chest.
But the creature wasn’t after him.
He watched, powerless to stop its rampage as it ran after Brianca. The Shadow paladin had just managed to reach her weapons, her vulnerable back open for the beast as she bent over to take her sword. Alistair rolled onto his stomach and stretched his arm, aiming to launch another blast of wind, but his magic refused to work. The wind had cut him off—his vitality was dangerously low.
Dammit!
Alistair cursed and threw himself off the ground. He ran forward, unable to even hover off his feet. The battlefield had become a simple math equation, and he knew the answer even as he dashed forward. Reaching Brianca in time was impossible. Instead, he tried to summon his strength to call out, to warn her. Before his lips could form a single syllable, he saw a fiery bolt streak across the courtyard and splash against the creature’s meaty profile.
The protovampire lost all forward momentum, its body physically pushed aside by the sheer strength of the blast as it impacted. Alistair followed the still glittering trail of fey magic to its source and saw not one, but two friendly faces. His shoulders sagged in relief as he laid eyes on an unwounded Ilvara with a disheveled but otherwise alive Rozena, one arm wrapped over the elf’s shoulder for support, the other with hand outstretched and wisps of smoke emerging from her fire-licked callouses.
Brianca, initially frozen by the force of the shockwave, now glanced toward the beast to check its status. Alistair did as well and was both amazed and somewhat terrified to see it still standing. All of its hair had been burned away, leaving only blackened pieces of flesh hanging from partially exposed bones. The protovampire’s red eyes, somehow untouched by the fire, locked onto Ilvara and Rozena and it seemed intent on charging again.
The blast, as impressive as it was, wasn’t enough to finish the monster off. Despite that, Rozena looked completely exhausted. It was amazing she had any strength at all to summon magic after her lengthy captivity. But if her magic wasn’t enough to finish it off, Alistair began to wonder whether it could be killed at all.
Induced by rage, the protovampire screeched again and made a mad dash forward, its sights set on the two newcomers. Standing between them was the now-equipped Shadow paladin, and Brianca adopted a stance that signaled she didn’t plan on stepping out of the way. Brave, but foolish. She didn’t have the weight, nor the sheer strength to stop it mid-stride.
Alistair started to run again. He put all his strength into his aching legs, forcing every step. Not like this, he thought while biting his lip, not like this!
He watched as the monster quickly closed the gap with Brianca. She thrust out with both arms, intent on impaling the still-smoldering beast through the heart. This time it used its wingspan to swipe out with one arm, batting the supplicant aside like she was a feather in the wind. Brianca was sent flying across the courtyard, sparks erupting beneath her as she skidded with intense speed into the far wall, opposite Alistair. The girl didn’t move.
Her sacrifice wasn’t in vain. In his Wind body, Alistair’s natural speed was superior enough over the Aegis that he managed to close the gap in time. His body glossed over in white again and, with the momentum he’d already gathered, Alistair slammed into the protovampire with all the weight of the Aegis. With the knowledge that his weapon was a mere toothpick, Alistair instead chose to grapple and hold the beast with all his strength. With what energy he had left, he turned to shout at Ilvara, the undead monster struggling beneath him.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Hit it again!” he cried out, pressing his weight against the protovampire in an ultimately futile attempt to keep it from moving. “Hit it with a bomb. Anything with fire!”
Ilvara glanced at the mage in her arms, and the two shared a concerned glance.
“But what about—”
“JUST DO IT!”
The elf didn’t hesitate a second time. She used her free hand to reach into her pack and quickly whipped something toward the struggling mass beneath Alistair. At the same time, Rozena began to chant, the words of her incantation growing louder and more frantic every second. Magic gathered in the palm of her hand as she readied another blast of fire.
Beneath him, the creature managed to roll onto its side, partially breaking his grasp. Freeing its arm, the protovampire launched its sharpened claws into Alistair’s chest. He took a sharp breath as his vision faded. With the last of his strength, Alistair grabbed hold of the arm, even as it dug deeper into his chest, and held it tightly. Then, before the last of his mental fortitude left him, he activated his second charge of Adaptive Armor and chose to resist the oncoming explosion.
At that moment, a small gray sphere landed next to them and exploded into a fiery blast. They were enveloped in smoke and sent flying toward the gate. As a crumpled mass of limbs, the two bodies hit the wall together, sending bits of stone toppling over them. It was at that moment when the two adversaries had settled and stopped moving that Rozena aimed and fired her second and last blast of flame.
This scorching inferno landed perfectly on target this time as the beast wasn’t on its side or able to maneuver out of the way. It took the full brunt of the attack this time, though Alistair wasn’t left unscathed either. The force of the attack dislodged more stone and partially collapsed the gatehouse, showering the Aegis and the protovampire in bits of castle wall until both of them were partially submerged.
Before he lost consciousness completely, Alistair thought he heard someone desperately call out his name. This offered him a strange sense of comfort as he fell asleep, his body cold and unresponsive.
----------------------------------------
Pain. Every nerve ending, every inch of Alistair’s body was utterly consumed by pain. Not a dull sore from a toothache and not the hot, sharp pin of blade piercing flesh. Like a heartbeat, it reverberated from his chest to every extremity like a tidal wave of supreme discomfort.
Something heavy was on top of him, constricting his breathing. Then, he felt hands grab hold and pull him backward. Every inch felt like he was opening up a new wound, but soon enough the weight had been freed from his chest.
Still, his eyelids felt heavy. His senses, apart from those screaming discomfort, had been dulled. Not to mention, his hearing was shot—fingertips numb to the touch. Alistair was cut off from the world around him. But he was certain that, whatever had happened, he’d been transformed into his human body again. The red shell around him was gone, its familiar sense of protection absent.
Not good, he thought as he struggled to wake up, without the Aegis and Wind, I’m no good.
How much time had passed since he went under? The vampires would be on them anytime. Brianca wouldn’t be able to fight them all by herself. He had to do something.
He was hit with another ache, a sudden and resounding wave emanating from his cheek. And then another, followed up with a third hit. It was after the fourth time he realized someone was trying to slap him awake. And it wasn’t helping.
“Wake up, Alistair!” He could hear them. The voice seemed distant, even though he was sure they had to be right next to him. It was Ilvara.
“Stop hitting him!” Rozena replied. She sounded hoarse, weak, and most importantly, afraid. “You aren’t helping.”
“Got any better ideas? No? That’s right, you’re out of magic. So unless you have a bucket of water hidden under that rag I gave you to wear, I’m going to keep slapping him until he—”
“They’re coming!” Brianca jumped into the conversation. He could sense the anxiety rising in her voice. No doubt she meant Arkaz. Rozena next to him gasped, and Ilvara ceased her assault on his face.
Behind his eyelids, Alistair was starting to notice colors and lights. The hidden weight keeping him blind was starting to fade. All the while he struggled with his body, trying to force the pain and numbness away with sheer mental fortitude.
“My lord,” said one of the vampires, the simple sound of his sniveling tone made Alistair’s tongue curl, “allow me the honor of finishing them off. Better that you don’t sully your hands with them.”
“Hold,” Arkaz said, his tone firmly neutral. “The four of them fought well. Enough to earn a reprieve. Together, they somehow managed to kill the beast your people went on and on about being ‘indestructible’. Seems the experiment to make it stronger failed. A failure I expect you to own in its entirety.”
“B-But, my lord…it gave the paladin enough wounds to surely be fatal. A worthy trade, would you not agree?”
“I wouldn’t,” Arkaz responded flatly to his ‘comrade’, unamused. “Perhaps your senses have been given too much time to rot in undeath. Take a second look. The boy’s still alive. The damage didn’t transfer from his mantle to his human body. Your pet didn’t last long enough to even crack his shell. I’d say he suffered more damage from that explosion than anything.”
At this point, Alistair had managed to crack an eye open. Blurry figures on a darkened background gave way to familiar courtyard scenery as he blinked away the tears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rozena kneeling over him, her body half-covering him as if she were using herself as a shield. In front of them, Brianca and Ilvara stood, weapons raised in a defensive posture. Across from them, a semi-circle of the undead had surrounded their little group. They were led by Arkaz, who was still arguing with one of the other vampires of his little cabal.
“Then, allow me to finish what I’ve started.” And the vampire took a menacing step forward toward the girls. In his hand, he wielded a familiar kind of blade and in the other, he prepared some sort of dark spell.
Arkaz’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Do you test my authority, worm?” The master vampire, having at some point changed into his armor, also took a step forward. Not toward the living, but instead toward the upstart of his party.
“Would you let them live?” asked the other vampire. He sounded shocked at the very idea of it. “We have them at their most vulnerable!”
“Do I seem scared to you? Am I, Arkaz of the Crimson Rose court, some woeful pissant made of flesh and blood—vulnerable to any simple poke, prod, or bite? Not I.” He then gestured toward the rebellious one. “Perhaps you are.”
The younger vampire turned from Arkaz to address the rest of the flock. “This is madness! Would you all leave it like this? Leave these cattle to flee?! Who stands with me—”
Before he could finish, and before Alistair could even blink, Arkaz turned into a blur of motion. In one fell swoop, he’d somehow managed to unsheathe his sword, step into range, and decapitate the vampire. The head gently slid off from the exceptionally clean cut, with the body slumping to its knees soon after.
“There’s your answer,” Arkaz said to the corpse. “Damn fool.”
“Why?” Rozena called out, breaking their side’s silence.
Arkaz turned their way. His eyes widened a bit as if he’d forgotten their presence. Soon enough his gaze returned to that of one a person would use to address a nuisance brought before them.
“Do I need a reason to cull the weeds from my ranks?”
“Why us?” She pressed him. Alistair wondered where her burst of courage had been gathered from. They were in no position to resist or prod this creature, as much as he hated to admit it.
Arkaz sighed. For just a moment, his expression resembled something inherently human. A kind of tiredness one might find when they ask their parent for another story before bed. There was something almost relatable to his visage, if only it wasn’t attached to a gray-skinned, undead body.
“Before my change, I was a knight of Alban. A lauded one, of some reputation. Don’t ask me for the family name or heraldry. They were wiped from the record after I fell in glorious battle against the undead.” Arkaz had a far-off look as he summoned memories he’d once buried. “My transformation was a…difficult time, to say the least. To maintain my sanity, to hold onto even a shred of my old self, I clung to the same thoughts that had shepherded me through so many battles. Thoughts of faith, of integrity, of honor. They were a minor but much-needed comfort during the hell I was subjected to.”
Arkaz sheathed his sword and offered them a look filled with pity. “Though the Lady abandoned me in my time of need, leaving me to suffer this fate for eternity, I swore to never lose that old piece of myself. My honor gave me strength in life, and it continues to do so in death. Most consider it a strange quirk of mine at best, and some—” He glanced at the headless corpse. “—See it as a weakness.”
Arkaz shrugged. “So what if I show a bit of fairness on the battlefield? It hasn’t killed me yet. And it is oh-so-satisfying when an opponent I’ve spared comes at me a second time. That look of utter defeat and shock when I kill them, even after all the work they put in to improve themselves, only to be bested by a monster like me? It’s priceless.”
During the story, Alistair had been feeling sympathetic to the master vampire. An honorable knight forced to suffer a fate worse than death and fight against those he once considered his kin. But all that sympathy went right out the window with that last bit. He’d fallen too far, been separated from his humanity for too long. No one with integrity in their heart could deliver a line so coldly, with a wide grin to match.
In the silence, things grew tense. Both sides waited for someone to make a move. Everything hinged on Arkaz’s mood it seemed. How long would his sense of ‘honor’ keep Alistair and the others alive?
At that moment, a bat appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It came down from the sky and landed in the group of vampires before entering into a hideous transformation that saw its small animal body transform into the shape of a human, clothes and all. This bat, now a vampire like the rest, was a woman of some shape or form. She whispered something into Arkaz’s ear, her eyes darting back and forth as if she were nervous or anxious about something.
The master vampire’s expression darkened. Whatever good mood his story had put him in was now gone. He took a long look at the courtyard, of the castle of Adelgard. A place he’d well and truly conquered, right out from under the Lathurns’ noses. When he opened his mouth to speak, all eyes fell on him.
“It seems some of the Lady’s servants are coming here. The news got out quicker than I expected. Damn shame.” He sent a glare aimed at Ilvara. It was the elf that managed to find and rescue Rozena, after all. She undoubtedly contributed to ending the spell enshrouding Adelgard from the Lady’s light. “Things are moving a bit quicker than I’d like. Without the spell to keep our presence here hidden, Adelgard is useless as a bridgehead. We’ll have to withdraw and consolidate our forces in Wyrdwood, where my brother is.”
Alistair’s eyes shot open. He put all of his strength into his arms so that he could try and push himself to stand. Wyrdwood was his home, not some vampire lair. What was Arkaz trying to imply? Rozena’s arms encircled him, managing to both hold him up and keep him from moving far.
“Alistair!” The daughter-errant shouted, alerting those gathered of his awakened presence. “Calm yourself! You don’t have the strength to—”
“What did you mean by Wyrdwood!” His voice cracked, throat dry and sore. Alistair could feel the strain on his body, but he didn’t care. He had to know. “Answer me!”
Arkaz did him the courtesy of meeting his gaze but offered him nothing but a wry smile. Then one after the other, the vampires transformed into their bat bodies and flew away, headed south.
Headed home.
No one moved for a tense few seconds, as if Arkaz and the rest would change their minds and return if any of them so much as breathed. Ilvara was the first to break, turning on her heel to kneel next to Alistair. Her elven face beneath the veil was so hard to read, especially with her eyes so full of white, but she seemed relieved to see him awake.
Brianca kept her eyes on the skies a moment longer, not one to lower her guard so easily. After a moment, he noticed the Shadow paladin’s body tense up.
“There!” She pointed with the end of her shortsword at the sky.
They looked, and against the blue and black of the moonlit sky, there was a fast-moving speck. Not a cloud or comet, but a speck of black. It grew larger every second. He knew it to be a figure, a paladin. There was no other explanation. But who could get to them so quickly?
Alistair had his answer when the rescuer landed. Their name appeared to him with the Sight, scrawled proudly above their head in bright glowing letters.
“Broderick,” Alistair said, breath catching as he did.
Despite everything, he began to smile. Like the last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Arkaz was gone, but Alistair swore to not be far behind.
And he’d be bringing friends.