A slap roused Irobu from her slumber; her face stung from the impact. Bewildered, she looked around from her bedroll, but the forest was pitch black. She heard Harold’s heavy breathing beside her and little else. After a moment, Irobu realized she was holding her hand over her head.

Demon? Trying to deprive me of sleep so you can manipulate me easier? There was no response. Sitting up, Irobu stared into the blackness surrounding her. She heard a snapping sound off to her right.

“Ser Griffiths?” Irobu whispered. Several seconds ticked by without reply. As her pulse quickened, Irobu remembered Thrun’s promise to only take control of her if her life was in danger. Better to have a false alarm than have us all get killed, Irobu thought as she pushed the slumbering Harold. He maintained his heavy breathing through increasingly forceful shoves from the young Sanusite.

How heavy a sleeper is this oaf? Curse him. He’s useless, Irobu concluded. Next she crawled towards the tree trunk Ser Griffiths had been propped against, and soon felt two boots and part of a cloth garment.

“Ser Griffiths?” Irobu repeated, but only heard a light snoring over the rustling of the canopy above. Reaching farther, she felt chainmail under the cloth garment, and a shaved patch atop the man’s head. She pushed him in turn, but he was as unresponsive as Harold. Well it’s Ser Griffiths, but what’s happening? Why aren’t they waking up?

LIGHT SPELL, NOW! Thrun boomed, rapidly spitting instructions.

Wha— Irobu started.

Follow along if you want to live, Thrun barked urgently and repeated the spell instructions slightly slower. Irobu hopped to her feet and followed along. Suddenly, an orange-sized, glowing ball materialized before her. Drenching the immediate area in a bright white light, the orb illuminated the grove and the dense mist around their camp.

What’s going on? Irobu asked frantically. Why the rush?

I felt someone using magic. It looks like they tried to put us all to sleep.

Looking down, Irobu saw that Ser Griffiths was still fast asleep without any obvious wounds; Harold appeared to be in a similar state.

Why didn’t you just handle it yourself? You knew the light spell and other spells to actually defend us.

Because of the painful transition period. I can’t say anything for about a minute after you wake. If you woke up while I was battling whatever is out there, your hesitation would get us killed. Enough chatter. Keep looking around.

She shook off her grogginess and took a deep breath to settle her rapid heartbeat. Irobu noted that the mist was boiling away, which allowed her to see some twenty meters through the sea of bark and branches. At the edge of this range, Irobu spotted three pale protrusions jutting out from different tree trunks. She squinted to get a better look, but they vanished in a jiffy.

Were those the slavers? Were they watching us?

I doubt slavers know magic or are ghostly pale. Something more sinister. Either way, we’re going to make them regret trying to cross us, Thrun announced nastily. Follow along again, then point at one of the trees they’re hiding behind.

Irobu did as she was told, and a lightning bolt careened out of her outstretched pointer finger. It bore straight through the tree Irobu aimed at, and then a screeching reverberated through the night. Simultaneously, a ring of fire erupted around the squad’s camp. These nascent flames rose and blocked Irobu’s view of her target.

What’s with the fire? A mishap? Irobu questioned anxiously. She started the motions for a spell to create water.

Yes, though a fortunate one in this case. Save your energy; the fire will not spread. Our enemies clearly wanted to take us alive, and this fire will make their approach more difficult, Thrun reasoned. They may even turn tail and flee. In spite of Thrun’s prediction, the screeching continued to ring out through the once quiet night and was soon matched by other screeches from the surrounding woods.

That doesn’t sound like an ‘I’m giving up’ screech, Irobu retorted. How many of these things are there?

I heard at least six distinct voices.

Six? For Hekal’s sake! Irobu exclaimed as she spun in circles, trying to see through the flickering flames that enclosed her sleeping companions. Seeing nothing, she kicked Ser Griffiths in the side. When will they wake? Allies would be appreciated for this onslaught.

It will depend on how powerful our assailants are. Could be minutes, or hours. Their exhaustion won’t help either. Ignore them for the moment, for I have an idea, Thrun said before he rattled off instructions for yet another spell.

What’s this one do?

If my theory is correct, which they are ninety-six percent of the time, that will let us see our attackers. Hurry now. We are in mortal danger.

When your theories aren’t tinged with lies, maybe, Irobu muttered, quickly carrying out the series of gestures and incantations Thrun had dictated. Once she finished, she saw a small, white, humanoid silhouette through the blaze. It was alternating between raising its head to the sky and moving it to one side. Spinning about, Irobu noticed four more of the white silhouettes scattered in a circle around her. They were all behaving in a similar fashion.

Right again, Thrun declared triumphantly.

So what are they?

Undead of some sort, otherwise they wouldn’t be showing up. We’ll need to get a closer look to determine what kind, though the lightning bolt did seem effective.

Good to know. It looks like we may need more of those, Irobu thought, eyeing two of the silhouettes who had dropped onto all fours. The pair proceeded to gallop towards her from front and back. Irobu struggled through the steps to create a lightning bolt; her heart pounded in her ears and her hands trembled. The figures had already closed half the distance to the young Sanusite and she had yet to cast anything.

Thrun called out a correction to her form, and finally a brilliant bolt of lightning arced out of Irobu’s finger. With a boom, it crackled through the flames and pierced the figure in front of her, which brought it to a halt five meters away. The figure collapsed and subsequently lost its white silhouette. Irobu’s ears rang, her head throbbed and she felt the ground shaking beneath her. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she turned to face the other assailant approaching from behind. It was but meters away and showed no sign of slowing.

Irobu’s hands raced through the motions for a lightning bolt as the white silhouette leapt through the flames. First came blue-tinged hands ending in sharp, blood stained nails. Next was its pale, bald head, complete with icy blue eyes and an open, shrieking mouth. The expression highlighted massive fangs among its top row of teeth. Shining chainmail covered its torso and legs.

Undeterred by the flames, the undead attacker landed on Irobu; it seized her by the shoulders and easily tackled her to the ground. Its claws tore through her yellow cloak and sunk into the flesh beneath. Irobu yelped in pain as stars filled her vision. The creature was crouching over her, overwhelming her nostrils with its metallic, tangy scent. With evil intent, the monster moved a clawed hand towards Irobu’s throat, but paused as the rumbling of the ground intensified.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Its hesitation granted Irobu just enough time to finish casting the lightning bolt. At once, the sizzling bolt tore a gaping hole through the monster’s chest, liquefying its chainmail in the process. Defeated, the monster raised its head to emit a final earsplitting cry, and rolled off the wounded Sanusite. Irobu promptly passed out.

~

“Oh Prince Thrun, are you alright, your majesty?” a female voice asked, dripping with mock concern. While the words were foreign, Irobu understood their meaning. Her eyes opened and the blackness was replaced with a blue sky dotted with wispy clouds. A woman loomed overhead, adorned in a shimmering dress. She had auburn hair and a blocky, rectangular face. The corners of her mouth were slightly raised and her dark gray eyes watched the ground closely. Large crystals hung from her ears. “I warned that it would be too much for you. Perhaps the gift ended with Arbin after all, or perhaps you were never truly a Nzambt,” she taunted.

Irobu’s mouth opened. “I’m…fine,” a childish voice growled. Defiantly, her body rose to its feet; Irobu’s head ached all the while.

Bitch, the same childish voice spat in Irobu’s head. Irobu’s eyes looked up at the woman’s face, noting her familiar delight at her suffering. I’m not going to let her get a rise out of me this time.

Inhaling deeply, her head swiveled to survey the practice yard. Six straw dummies—two of which we charred—lined one wall of the chamber. Weapon and armor racks lined the other walls, complete with wooden practice versions and their real counterparts. An illusion of a blue sky concealed the true ceiling of the room.

Irobu’s mouth opened once more. “You would do well to remember that I’m still a prince and that you work for the Nzambts,” the childish voice reminded. Irobu’s eyes were locked with those of the woman.

“Wrong again, princeling. I work for King Tygrim,” she corrected. “He must have shown pity on you, for I know not why else he would task me with teaching someone so inept.”

“Watch your tongue! You’re still speaking to a member of the royal family,” the young voice quavered, continuing to speak strange words through Irobu’s mouth.

“Or what? You’re going to tell your father on me? Remember prince, you’re last in line for the throne. The littlest, slowest, ugliest one of your siblings at that. Your father would probably thank me if you hadn’t woken up just now.”

Irobu felt her fists clench as she attempted to suppress a building rage. I should teach her a lesson right here! I’m tired of her running her mouth at every opportunity! No, no. That’s what she wants—to get the opportunity to take me down herself. I’m sure she’d love that, Irobu’s face grimaced. Her short form turned to face the dummies. An incantation Irobu recognized spouted from her lips, and a second later a lightning bolt seared into one of the dummies. Her hands repeated the process and another one of the dummies went up in flames, also torn asunder by an arc of electricity. Nausea replaced the anger in her still aching head.

“Bravo prince, two bolts without fainting this time! You’re 13 now? Your brothers could do the same by the time they were 10,” Thrun’s tutor stated condescendingly. The childish voice ignored the tutor and Irobu’s hands proceeded to fire off two more bolts in rapid succession. When she finished with the display, her head felt ready to explode. Her body hunched over and her hands grasped her knees. Vomit erupted from her half open mouth, splattering on the stone floor of the practice range.

The tutor’s cackles filled the chamber. “You’re supposed to shoot lightning at the dummies, not shoot vomit,” she chided. “Your brothers at least knew the difference. Clean up this mess and report back here tomorrow prince. You’ve clearly reached your limit,” she said as she strolled out of the room, laughter trailing behind. Irobu’s eyes closed and her senses faded away.

~

The first sensations to return were a burning on her shoulders and the cold ground against her back. Irobu cried out in pain and jolted open her eyes. Thin mist hung in the air overhead, but nonetheless the surrounding forest was brightly lit. Patches of earth jutted from the once flat ground; what trees hadn’t fallen were left standing at strange angles. A dark rift waited at the edge of their camp between piles of broken branches. Irobu observed Harold and Swift standing a small distance away and vigilantly scanning the ruined landscape. In her peripheral vision, Irobu noticed Ser Griffiths crouching beside her.

“Ah, she’s up,” Ser Griffith’s deep voice announced from beside the injured Sanusite. Irobu turned her head and saw her middle aged companion was holding an uncorked flask over her. “Hope it doesn’t hurt too badly; I had to clean your wound,” he offered Irobu’s hostile stare. Inhaling, the knight looked to the ground. “I wanted to apologize for being nasty with you, and not treating you like an adult. By Buain, I’ve never liked mages, but you saved us all from those vampires. I can only imagine what unfolded; this whole area looks like a warzone. We all owe you our lives. Isn’t that right?” Ser Griffiths called to the sentries.

“Indeed. You saved us. I will remember,” Swift said solemnly while looking straight into Irobu’s eyes. Irobu felt herself begin to blush and broke eye contact.

“Yes, you save Harold. Owe you,” Harold agreed. He smiled a toothy grin at the wounded Sanusite, though she shrugged off the praise.

Thrun’s groan then saturated Irobu’s thoughts. I had the worst dream. What happened? Did we survive the vampire attack?

Somehow, Irobu confirmed. I guess the lightning finally scared them off. And your dream…was it one with your magical tutor?

How—no matter, it was only a dream. Remember that whatever you saw was completely ludicrous and is in no way a proper recollection, Thrun insisted. Simply another reason I need to get back into my body.

Whatever you say, Thrun. Lies or no lies you did save me with that correction, even though I know it was only to save yourself. You have my gratitude for the moment.

I don’t need your gratitude; I need a new vessel. Pay attention, the other zealot is blathering at you.

“Irobu? Going to let me finish tending your wounds or are you too busy staring at Harold?” Ser Griffiths teased. “I need to cover them; don’t want an infection to set in.”

“If you must,” Irobu allowed as she shifted her cloak and blouse to expose her shoulders. Ser Griffiths rifled through his pack and produced several bandages and a small vial. Using the contents of the vial as an adhesive, he stuck the bandages over Irobu’s cuts.

“That’ll suffice for now. You’ll want to get it checked when we return to Duncaster,” Ser Griffiths advised. Irobu thanked him.

Why thank him for that pittance? Thrun questioned. I would simply heal the wounds with a spell.

You know why, don’t be obstinate, old man, Irobu shot back.

“So do you plan to tell us what happened? It must be a tale; Swift found three bodies, most of these woods were destroyed overnight, and countless trees have gaping holes.”

“I’ll give you all the abridged version,” Irobu decided as she readjusted her outfit to cover her bandaged wounds. Harold and Swift edged closer to the pair. “Last night a group of six vampires attempted to put us all to sleep. They succeeded with everyone but me. I blasted one with a lightning bolt, then two more charged, and I blasted them too before passing out. The fire and destruction were unintended mishaps, though they likely drove off the remaining vampires.”

“All this was unintended mishaps?” Ser Griffiths shook his head. “Astounding…I’d never believed the reports that the Spellmarsh was created by a mishap, but seeing this mess…Nonetheless your spells were necessary in this case, I admit. How did you know what they were?” Ser Griffiths asked. “I can’t imagine there are many vampires up near Gargam.”

“Gargam Academy’s education is very thorough,” Irobu answered. “Besides, lone vampires occasionally descend from the Imperators near our mines.”

“I see, though this area isn’t known for vampires…strange. If I recall correctly, vampires can only travel during the night once they’ve feasted on the blood of their victims, and sleep by day,” Ser Griffiths scratched his head.

Correct, Thrun stated. Irobu nodded her head.

“That means the caravaners may still be alive, though perhaps not for long. We need to find the vampire lair and strike before the sun sets.”

“Will be hard,” Harold declared. “Ground messed up. Tough to see trail.”

“The terrain itself will now greatly impede us,” Swift agreed.

“We have to try,” Ser Griffiths proclaimed. “We can’t rest while innocent people are captives of these monsters. Irobu, can you walk?”

Battling a bout of dizziness, she stood up on tired limbs and took a few steps. “Mhm.”

“How about spells? As much as I loathe magic, these vampires won’t go down easily. We’ll need every advantage we can get,” Ser Griffiths inquired.

“I’m unsure,” Irobu admitted. “I feel better now, though I don't know if I'll pass out if I try to cast anything.”

Judging by your level of fatigue and inexperience, I estimate you could cast about two lightning bolts should the need arise.

Inexperience? I casted three in a row without passing out, that’s better than you were doing in your dream, Irobu contended. Thrun went silent.

“Understood. Let’s get a move on; we need to find their lair as quickly as possible. Buain watch over us,” he prayed. “Harold, lead the way.”

On that note, the former shepherd began hopping over cracks in the earth and toppled and splintered trees. The rest of the band followed suit, traipsing in Harold’s footsteps and into the shadowy heart of the Whispering Woods.