Durance stumbled, his back colliding with the door as he stared at Darian’s fangs.

“What are you?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“Someone who wants you to move.” Darian stepped forward.

He could feel the dwarf’s sour breath on his cheek, smell the sweat forming on his brow. And his fear, he could practically taste it in the air.

“What is it you plan on doing?” Durance asked, his resolve slowly returning. “Kill the whole lot of them?”

If the Justicars in the village were each around Jorg in terms of strength, Darian wouldn’t stand a chance. But they appeared weak, more similar to the Lich Cultists from the swamp. And if he killed Durance now, that would eliminate one of the two people who actually posed a threat.

“Darian,” Fria said, gripping him by the elbow. “Maybe there’s another option.”

Darian stepped away from the dwarf. “If they are going to kill the infected, what other choice do we have?” He looked into her sad eyes. “Your mother will die if we don’t kill them first.” This was a violent world. His time in the forest taught him that. And that meant some problems could only have violent solutions.

“Even if you were capable of doing it,” Durance said. “You’d be killing a lot of good men and women in the process.”

“If they were good, they wouldn’t let Marco do as he pleased.” But Durance had a slight point. If some of the killing could be avoided, it was worth considering.

“You said there is going to be a vote?” Darian asked, his temper cooling. “Where and when is this voting happening?”

“The longhouse,” Durance answered. “They’re going to do the vote at the base of the hill in an hour or so.”

“Would those who oppose Marco be willing to fight him and his men?”

Durance shook his head. “They may not approve, but none in the order would raise their weapons against a brother or sister of Argus.”

“Marco is a Justicar,” Fria said. “And that hasn’t stopped him from threatening the others. You said as much.”

The dwarf huffed. “What do you expect me to do?”

Darian thought about it for a moment, then he spoke. “Gather those you trust, those who don’t agree with Marco, and skip the meeting. I will handle the rest.”

“You plan on killing those who side with Marco, is that right?” The dwarf’s face was hard to read, angry one second and ashamed the next. “No, I can’t allow it. Argus would never forgive me.”

“Durance,” Fria said. “You know what the commander and his supporters are doing is wrong. I know you and Father disagreed about how the church operates, but even you must see how their methods grow more brutal with each passing year. This is but the most recent example.”

“Look at you, speaking like you understand.” Durance frowned. “You know only what your father told you. Yes, the church has made many mistakes, but it is the only thing keeping this nation held together.”

“I’m not asking you to fight,” Darian said. “But to simply stand aside. If you can’t do that, then is it fair of me to assume you’re my enemy?” His grip on his sword tightened.

“I will not listen to threats, boy.” Durance stood straighter.

“Will you really side with someone who wishes to slaughter the innocent?” Fria asked. “Loyal citizens who once looked to the church for aid? Is cutting them down something you will truly allow?”

Durance looked at her, his face softening. “I owe my life to the church, but you would ask me to betray it?”

“Not the church. Just one man,” Darian said. “A man that plans on killing people who need his help, not the edge of his blade.”

The dwarf went to argue, but then his shoulders sagged. “I…very well.” He raked his hand through his beard, eyes lost in thought. “I will gather those who oppose Marco and direct them away from the meeting. Those who remain with him will have made their choice and they can be…dealt with as you see fit.” He looked into Darian’s eyes. “But I will not fight for you. Any spilling of Justicar blood is to be on your hands, not mine.”

“Better for their blood to spill than the people of my village,” Fria said, her voice measured.

Durance regarded them for a moment, then turned for the door.

“Durance,” Darian said. “Do not betray us.”

He huffed, then made his exit, the door closing softly behind him.

“Can he be trusted?” Darian liked his odds if he could pick a few of them off from stealth, but if the Justicars surrounded them, things would get a lot more complicated.

“He might be a fanatical fool, but he has a good heart. I believe him.”

Darian peeked through the shutters, ears picking up the sound of Durance’s voice. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but whoever he was talking to whispered something back to him, then walked down the street.

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“I will stay for a little while longer,” Darian said. “But then I’m heading out.”

“What do you plan on doing?” Fria asked, retrieving a fresh quiver.

He turned, a sly smile forming on his lips. “I’m going to prepare a few little surprises for Argus’ followers.”

***

The night had a particular edge to it as Marco made his way down the street. He did his best to smile at the few villagers he saw, but his patience was wearing thin. He’d been with Knight Commander Thalion hunting demons only a month ago, and now he was at the ass end of the kingdom, playing in the mud. But it would all be over soon.

Marco paused as he reached the base of the hill. The village longhouse stood above, the structure housing all of his little problems.

“Commander,” came a gruff voice.

“Durance!” Marco flashed his practiced smile at the approaching dwarf, noting the man seemed rather pale in the starlight.

More Justicars were pouring in from the narrow, muddy streets, their torches splitting the night. The vote would soon commence, and then Marco could finally head back west. All he needed now was the men bringing the hay and oil.

“Chilly night, this one,” Durance said, rubbing his hands together. “Makes me wish we were all indoors.”

“Indeed.” Marco turned back to stare at the longhouse, his arms crossed over his chest. “And where are your men, Durance? If they don’t arrive soon, they forfeit their right to vote on how we should…deal with the sick villagers.”

“I left a few to guard the streets,” the dwarf replied. “Depending on our decision, some of the villagers may seek retribution.”

Marco laughed. “They wouldn’t dare. But perhaps you have a point.”

A cool wind blew through, the torches sputtering as over a dozen Justicars filled in around Marco. He’d spent time securing votes from Durance’s men, but it seemed the stupid moralistic dwarf had taken them away on his own.

“But I must ask, before we get started,” Durance said, taking his spot at Marco’s side. “If the vote succeeds, do you really plan on killing the infected? Some may yet beat the sickness. And should our weapons really taste the blood of innocent folk?”

Marco gritted his teeth. He was tired of the dwarf and his silly questions. Innocent folk? They forfeited that title when the illness claimed them. Now they were but agents of the enemy. Spreaders of sickness that claimed the lives of valiant Justicars each day.

“What we must do is regrettable, Durance. But the infected must be culled.” Marco turned, the sound of hooves and wagon wheels growing closer. “And I do not plan on exposing my men to the infected. We will simply burn them.”

The wagon rounded the corner, the horse’s breath misting as it trudged closer, the wagon at its back nearly bursting with hay and wood. Looking at it made Marco smile, his first genuine one in weeks.

Durance took a step, nearly tumbling like he’d hit the ale a little too hard. “Burn them…” he said, looking over his shoulder, something close to horror on his face. “You plan to burn them alive?”

Marco clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Durance.” He laid his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder, steadying him. “They are already dead. Just think of this as cauterizing a wound.”

The dwarf watched as the wagon came to a halt and Marco’s men began unloading it. Once they gathered enough around the building, Marco would ignite the piles with his holy flame. Then it would be up to Argus to handle things from there.

Durance pulled away, his body and face slack as stone. “I see you’ve made your choice,” he said.

“Indeed,” Marco replied, frowning at the dwarf. He, like so many others, just didn’t understand the price of righteousness. But once the infected were reduced to ash and the village was saved, he would understand.

“Excuse me,” the dwarf said. “I can’t witness this.”

Marco watched the dwarf and two of Marco’s own men head down the street. Heat flared in his chest, and he could no longer contain it.

“This is holy work!” he called, the dwarf turning. “Whether you wish to witness this or not, what goes on here is what must be done.”

Durance straightened his back. “You are mistaken, Marco. This is not holy work.” He gestured at the longhouse. “And you’re wrong about something else. It’s not the flames I can’t stomach to watch.”

Something beyond the wall howled, the hair on Marco’s neck shooting up as a chill worked its way down his spine. He turned, his men all pausing to listen. Then he looked back.

Durance was gone.

***

Darian opened the longhouse doors, the crowd of Justicars all turning to face him.

“You,” Marco said, squinting. “From last night. Henry Price, is it? What are you doing here?”

“My name is Darian Carmine, and I’ve come to stop you.” The entire crowd had their eyes on him now. Good.

“I figured that name was fake,” Marco said, drawing his sword, the length of steel shimmering with magic. Then he noticed Darian’s fangs. “And what manner of beast are you?”

“I am a vampire,” Darian answered. Then he looked over the crowd of Justicars. “I will offer you this choice once. Lay down your weapons. Abandon this madman and walk away. Do this, and I guarantee your safety.”

No one moved.

Marco scoffed, then pointed at Darian with the tip of his sword. “Strong threats from a lone monster.” He stared at his men, his face grim. “By the authority of the church, I sentence this beast to death.”

His men drew their weapons, each eyeing each other as they slowly advanced. But their anxiety would soon be over, for none would survive.

Darian reached out, his mind expanding to all the beasts tethered to him. First, he commanded the horde of dominated bats behind him to fall upon the Justicars from above. They were weak creatures, but Zan’s buffing howl would see them become terrors of the night. Once they took to the sky, Darian commanded his summoned wolves to rush in from the shadows. Twelve of them were lying in wait, and the Justicars turned to face them as they rushed down the streets.

As the wolves closed in, Darian’s two giant bats swooped down from above, their massive fangs sinking into the unaware Justicars. Then an electrified arrow sped down from the roof of a nearby building, a Justicar filling face first in the mud with the shaft between his shoulders.

Darian slowly made his way toward Marco, his men screaming as wolves and bats tore into them.

“Marco,” Darian said, bringing his sword up. “What are you waiting for? I thought I was sentenced to death.”

Darian had given his dominated and summoned creatures the same command he’d given Fria. Marco was his.

His face twitched as the ground became soaked in blood. Then he charged forward, his blade aimed at Marco’s throat.