The beech forest was tall and touched by the fire of Autumn. It had turned gold and amber, or so it seemed to my eyes in the moon’s bright light, though my companions would see only the stark darkness of the night.

The Viscount had taken more men with him than I had expected. Fifty riders, armed to the teeth, and more to come, he boasted. It was the first evening of the journey, and already, I sensed he was hiding something. It was on the foremost of his mind, but his thoughts were murky. The little I caught revealed not what secret he bore, only that he was concerned of how to tell me.

I was examining him. It was making him nervous. I had no horse, so when I had joined his column and motioned for him to come, he had been forced to dismount and let another man take the reins of his huge black war destrier. Now we walked side by side.

And I did not have to press hard. Not at all, it seemed, for he began all by himself.

“There is a difficulty,” he started carefully, “I do have friends and allies, and our circle is powerful, but we have an enemy who is equally so. The archbishop of Bourges’ men currently guards the abbey’s ruins, I fear.” He quieted, gauging my reaction to this. Of course, there was a catch. And a cleric! Even better.

But I showed none of my concern, for it would suit my image of invincibility, and I trusted him not an inch longer than I could throw him. “He will destroy our… old friend?” We did not talk freely next to his men.

The viscount understood. “He cannot yet, I believe, but he is pulling on many threads to prepare an execution. In time, he may even have Rome’s backing, and then, I fear, even a man like our old friend will be doomed.”

This unsettled me. It was supposed to be a simple, exploratory journey. Now it sounded like a small war. And I hoped he was not overreaching due to my presence. I was not confident in fighting clerics.

“Viscount, do you have scouts in place? Do we know what we are facing?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and even, I hoped.

“I have spies,” he responded, frowning, “the archbishop has only a few dozen, I believe, but my information is a week old. I have sent messages to my Circle, however, and sent my knights to gather battalions of men-at-arms. They will follow. We shall have no problem, and… Milord, we have you at our side.” He laughed. “They will not know what hit them, Milord.”

“But you realize I am confined to the night, yes?” I reminded him stiffly. I didn’t like to point out my limits to him, when I relied on his idolization of my kind, but he seemed… reckless. And though I predicted little guilt with leading him to his death, which would be no different than taking him myself, I was unnerved by the fifty men following him. They were soldiers… but they were fathers, husbands, sons… some of them had dark, cruel thoughts but most struck me as simple, dutiful, and problem-minded.

The man nodded fervently… “but of course,” he said and made a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I inclined my head and stepped away into the night, effectively disappearing from the company.

A peaceful solution didn’t seem out of reach yet. Perhaps I could slip in and out. Then again… my last encounter with a priest had not exactly gone well, and he had been a mundane one. Who knew what powers an archbishop would wield?

It made my belly sink like a rock. This was all escalating very fast.

The fifth evening of our journey came swiftly. I stepped out of the carriage and scanned my surroundings from intruders, but the forest was peaceful except for the dusk’s active faunae. A fawn raised its head and watched me before bouncing away.

I checked on my two dutiful horses, who had thankfully survived another night on their long leash, grassing and treading about happily. In fact, I think they were quite satisfied with me. I locked my safe haven before dashing through the forest, agile as a cat. Not even ruffling my clothes one bit, I noticed with great satisfaction. I pounced over bushes and stepped off tree trunks light quick.

The smell of blood hit me like a warhorse. I jumped to an oak’s low, thick arm and straightened up with one hand feeling its bark. There was blood in the air. In droves. And there was metal, and fresh, human excrement, and horses’ blood also, and when I listened intently, filtering off the forest’s chittering, I heard people tumbling through the undergrowth, and shouts, screams, death rattles… it made my back crawl. War. So much suffering.

My instincts conflicted. I wanted to flee and live, and I wanted to hunt and feed. I wanted to fight, to let the adrenaline rush through my veins and drown the fear in fighting spirit and reckless ferocity. I dreamed of this. But it would be irresponsibly stupid. Moronic.

Carefully, I ventured out. The Mind’s Eye scanned the men who came close with extreme caution, in case there was a man of God amongst them. I was not eager to have the edges of my mind burned again. Whenever I was about to do something stupid, my dad would look at my mum and say… Burnt boy fears fire. My lips curled humourlessly.

One man, I recognized. He was in a group of three, and they were fleeing on foot, with six other chasing after them, on horses. They had maybe the span of five heartbeats until the riders would catch up and skewer them on their spears. I decided to fight here.

I had a dagger as every traveling man did. It would have been strange not to. With it in hand, in reversed grip, I intercepted them, but in the last moment I stayed my weapon, fearing to kill a man who was not evildoer. Instead, he was slapped with such violence that his nose crunched, and he spun heels over head to the forest’s floor behind his mount which neighed and pranced in fear of me.

The other men noticed the violent tumble and shifted their attention, and just as I swiftly swung over the mount without rider, a spear went my way. The dark was thick, however, and it flew harmlessly over my shoulder and into the horse behind, which cried in pain as it tumbled into a tree. Without grace, I snapped out like a viper to catch his wrist and jerk him down from the saddle, cracking his shoulder. They really stood no chance, fighting against a predator of the night, at night, with several times their strength.

The Viscount’s men had continued their headless run, so I circled around them and waited until they saw me in the last light of the day.

The three were bloodied, their expressions were hardened with grit, while strong hints of anxiety and panic softened the edges. As they saw me, one prepared himself for a desperate fight, thinking he had enemies ahead and behind, while the two others were ready to take their chances with surrender.

Then they recognized me. Even in the stress and the fight, I was intrigued what would go through their minds. I was pleased that all three felt some measure of relief at seeing a known face, until it occurred to them what I was, and that no one would know if they disappeared now.

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I lifted a hand politely and gestured welcomingly, and they dared approach. The fighter came closest, bowing his head swiftly before turning. “There’re riders –”

“I have dealt with them,” I interceded in a voice that was harder than I had meant to, in the haste. “Where’s the Viscount?”

“Don’t know,” he said genuinely, and their attention went back and forth between me and the forest behind.

I nodded, “I will find him. Flee down the road, keep to the right until you find a carriage. There, we will regroup. Pass the word if you can.” I waited only until the fighter of the group nodded before I moved on.

Two groups I passed, and one lone man, before I found the Viscount. He still had twelve riders with him, but they were fleeing down the road with a whole company at their heels. At least thirty.

That many, I was not confident to face, especially not with the torches they held. And they were heavily armed, with armour and spears and crossbows even, and capes fluttering behind them as they drove spurs into horses’ flanks. They seemed to be slowly catching up, though a few were falling behind. I saw a window of opportunity.

I was near invisible to them as I ran amongst the trees in the dark cloak, blinded as they were by the torches. Then I pounced over the road like a cat, taking off from a tree and ripping a man from his saddle. A scream was strangled in his throat as he hit the ground hard, breaking an arm beneath chain mail. I felt a ripple of confusion in the chasing group and smiled with thrill. How glad I was to be me in this forest.

Shouts resounded. I took a second man, and I was hungry, so I allowed myself to sample his blood. It was a fight, and the energy boomed in my limps as I resumed the chase. They had slowed now, for they had lost two men, and they couldn’t fathom how.

But as I approached for a third time, sweeping their group with my mind, I was burned. Suddenly, something hot as braises emerged and I reeled, grimacing while instinctively shooting my hands up against the invisible threat. A priest!

I squinted and saw him in the middle, wielding an axe, he reached a gauntlet up and halted the whole company to turn and face the darkness from where I had come. Two nearby riders with torches lit the way for him as he trotted close, a long-shafted, slim and deadly axe in one hand and a small metal shield bound to the other forearm, resting on the saddle as he held the reins in a relaxed, steady grip.

Beneath his helmet, I saw the eyes scurry the trees inquisitively. “A demon,” he breathed lowly, “a demon has risen from Hell. They have come. The Viscount has truly grown mad, then,” he spoke to the man closest to him, a tall and unafraid warrior who held a longsword over his shoulder. I could taste the silver in in the air, even from this distance. He bowed his head gravely. The warrior-priest commanded powerfully: “Enough, we ride back! Keep together, keep close to me!”

No more hunting for me. I had to wall off my Mind’s Eye to keep focus, but I felt blinded and out of depth. And thirty men. That seemed dangerous. A horn sounded from the warrior-priest’s group, and all around, the forest rustled with soldiers who called off the chase and retreated alertly. I could have hunted and picked off a few, but the risk was great with priests around. If one of them pinned me down, then I was doomed.

The Viscount was well-ahead now, still galloping away for their lives. Once removed from the priest, I dared open up again to prod his state of mind. The Viscount was enraged, but not defeated. I wondered if he could truly kill the sleeping one.

There was no telling if he would even wish to wake up, nor that I could even get to him, even without the clerics. Who knew what sorts of sorcery that crypt hid. He was an Old One, and perhaps he would simply destroy me. ‘Clean up’ his territory of competitors.

But in the journal, he didn’t seem aggressive, far from it. Perhaps a bit violent, but I thought that was simply hunger, or need of sacrifices for the Art’s spellworks. Ah… there was a tingle in my belly, a pleasant one. I really wanted to have a talk with this one. What he couldn’t know! Perhaps he could be my master, my teacher! Or at least, point me in the right directions, or if I could simply observe him perform the Art… I would know how to angle my further growth. I would know how to go from theory to action.

Instead of impeding the Viscount in his flight, I went to my carriage and waited for the groups I had directed there. It took them some time, but they made it. One was allowed to drive my carriage away. I feared an orderly pursuit once the enemy’s troops had rallied.

The rest, some ten men, I led to the Viscount. The horses were at walking pace now, heads low and huffing for air. The Viscount perked up in cheer when he saw me approach, “Sire,” he greeted, and his soldiers eyed me warily. I couldn’t fault them after the hit they had taken, and they had certainly not seen me helping. But as I came closer, they noticed the smears of blood my victims had left behind tonight.

“Viscount,” I said softly, for I could sense fear in him, and not from the opposing forces. It was fear of me, for having failed me. “You have had a rough evening.”

“Apologies, Sire,” he said quickly, as he approached me. Simultaneously, he quickly made sign for the men, “Symon, Theobald, Petrus, watch the road and the forest, Evrard, lead the men forward. We will follow in a heartbeat…” he said, waving them off before dismounting. The men looked uncomfortable at the delay, but they followed his directions. “Sire, you saved us,” he went to a knee before me and lifted his hands over his bowed head, palms toward the sky. Surely he didn’t mean for me to… kiss them? Bite them?

“Rise, rise,” I said impatiently before he had even completed the gesture, feeling embarrassed to be part of this. I had not grown up amongst aristocratic symbols and attributed such gestures no importance. “There is no time.”

“But sire…” I sensed a shiver of fear in him, “I simply meant to show my thanks, my deference.” He suddenly seemed so vulnerable, this intimidating, middle-aged man with a lion’s jaw and a bull’s neck. Like a chastised child.

“I shall have need of you, my friend,” I said to him in my most amiable, mild tone, and was almost put off by the wave of gratification he exuded. He saw me as a demi-god, there was no doubt. He saw everything he had ever wanted in me. Power, immortality. The mysteries of the world. But I knew nothing of them. I pursued the same. I had simply been unlucky to have an immortal choose me for his experiments, and lucky enough to escape alive. I was suddenly reminded I owed Fetinja my life. It made me angry.

No, she had rejected what was mine to give; I owed her nothing. My heart steeled with that thought, and I felt nothing for the Viscount anymore.

“We shall wage war,” I said softly, but there was coldness in my voice, one I could not shake, had no wish to shake. I felt stronger with it, and more dangerous. “Gather your men, gather your Circle. How much time?”

“A week, Sire, ten days at its most.” he licked his lips, “we have been prepared for a long time, Sire, and I sent letters already before I left. However… I fear we are not strong enough, the archbishop has come in force. I cannot say with how many, only that his power equals ours, at the very least.”

“Gather your men, as many as you can. Bring everything and everyone you have. We shall prevail, then.”

“You will fight with us?” He asked, eyes glowing excitedly. He felt I was invincible, that with me at his side, victory was certain. His belief was such that I felt it rubbing off on me. Likely something to be wary of. But he was learned. His opinion was not for nothing, was it?

I smiled to him. “I have friends, Viscount, they are as strong as I. Perhaps they can be convinced to fight with us,” I said in a tone indicating that they certainly would. The man almost bounced in excitement.

“Marvelous! Magnificent!”

“We shall gather in ten days, and march on the crypt. With the First One at our side, we shall be unstoppable,” I was simply speaking to his desires now, and they buzzed with every word of mine. “If you pass this test, you have earned your immortality, and more.”

“I will not fail,” he breathed, “never!”

“Music to my ears, friend. In ten days, we gather. Where?”

He had to snap out of the daze, “err, Boucle d’Or, it is a village a day north-east, we will rally there… Sire, I will not fail you!” He beat a hand on his heart and bowed again, deeply. I chuckled. A noble! A viscount bowing to me! The carpenter!

“There, there,” I clapped his shoulder lightly, “now leave, you must escape the archbishop. He will no doubt pursue.” With that said, I turned and left, treading leisurely into the black forest.

I felt him watch my back until I disappeared to his eyes. Then he shouted for his men back and rode.