Their fears turned out to be right.

Cardogg was only a day journey, but it was a very long day. There weren’t any ambushes while they went through the forest path of Tynt, but once they got into the big road, it became clear that it would not be an easy journey.

Fortunately, Rhynsa got an idea. He, Mizarka, and Arnulfe scouted ahead and found a hellhound patrol. They did not see any demons among them, so it would be an easy dispatch. However, Rhynsa had a different idea.

“(Hey, kid),” said Rhynsa. “(Can you do you hypnotic gaze now?)”

“(It’s been days since I last used it),” said Arnulfe. “(It’s not gonna be a problem…. Well, one problem. Haven’t had my fill, if you know what I mean?)”

“(That can easily be arranged).”

Rhynsa pointed towards a lone hellhound who separated from the patrol to take a leak. Arnulfe, while disgusted by the sight, felt that it was a very good prey. Rhynsa relayed his plan to Mizarka, though she did not like Arnulfe doing that. However, she knew it was a good way to make it easier to protect the group.

“(I’ll go back and wait for your go),” said Mizarka. “(And…spare them the gruesome details).”

The hellhound that took a piss stopped, and both Arnulfe and Rhynsa started their work. Rhynsa hid on a nearby tree and said, “(Hey. Over here).”

The hellhound, curious, followed the voice, not knowing that Arnulfe was hiding nearby. As the hellhound looked up, Arnulfe grabbed and covered his snout with his wings, all while drinking up his blood. It was the worst-tasting blood he had ever tasted, but he endured while Rhynsa flew down the tree.

In no time at all, the hellhound was already dead. Most of his blood went into Arnulfe, leaving a dried husk of a canine person among the bushes. Arnulfe, however, was trying not to throw up.

“(You don’t look so good),” remarked Rhynsa.

“(What the hell is in his blood?! Goddamn, that tasted like shit)!” complained Arnulfe.

Rhynsa took a sip, and he, too, reacted. However, once he spat out the blood, he said, “(He’s been drinking a lot. Hey, Arnulfe, you’re not feeling tipsy, are you?)”

“(Tipsy? No, why?)”

Rhynsa wondered why. Arnulfe looked more confused than drunk. After a while, the Fuzandre shrugged and said, “(Hopefully not. Now, I’ll draw their attention. You get into position).”

“(Why don’t I just pop up and say hello?)”

“(And end up full of holes? No chance, kid. They shot first, talk later. They are not those hellhounds attacking the caravan. Let me handle it).”

Arnulfe nodded and readied himself. Rhynsa had an idea, but even he was not very sure it would work.

As Mizarka waited for the Fuzandres to finish their jobs, she heard an explosion. The others quickly readied their rifles, but Mizarka, who by now learned a bit of Tragorian, said, “Stop! Wait!”

Despite her limited words, the rest of the group understood. It wasn’t long before Rhynsa appeared from among the trees and said, “Got it sorted out. Watch out for ambushes, alright?”

“What’s out there?” asked Pete.

“A patrol. Scared them off real good.”

Pete and the others were not sure what to expect until they reached the open road and saw that the patrol Rhynsa was talking about was walking away, dazed, and unresponsive. In front of them was Arnulfe, whose eyes turned red from his usual blue, moments before returning back to normal. He let out a satisfied smile and turned towards the convoy when he heard them, waving at them with his wings.

“Hmmm,” said the old man. “Well, I suppose you bats know a trick or two.”

“You don’t seem impressed, old man,” said Rhynsa.

“I’m more impressed nobody’s dead. I don’t care if it’s magic. No blood is spilled, so I consider that a win.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. Sooner or later, we have no other choice.”

“Aye, that’s a shame.” The old man sighed. “But that’s the way it is.”

Cardogg was a journey to the east, with the surface dwellers choosing roads less traveled to minimize contact with the hostiles. So far, their plan went well, though it increased their journey time to a day and several hours.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

That also did not guarantee that they would not be detected. As Rhynsa was aware, their convoy was big, but they only had a handful of cars. Most of them were either walking or riding horse carts, which considerably slowed their journey. It wasn’t as bad, considering that they were shrouded by the darkness of a night of new moon. However, Rhynsa and the others were more wary of ambushers that also used the darkness to attack them. Thus, Rhynsa and Arnulfe were chosen as the advance scouts due to their echo senses, with Arnulfe’s senses being more sensitive.

Worry and tension was high in their long day journey to Cardogg. Some started to question if it was the right idea to leave the relative safety of Tynt, considering that the town was not being attacked by demons or hellhounds since the situation deteriorated five months ago. Nevertheless, the surface dwellers’ leaders convinced them that Tynt was already on the cusp of losing its defensive position, and so they needed to move. If bigger towns and cities were overrun, it would only be time before Tynt would be overrun.

Arnulfe, Mizarka, and a mixed group of surface dwellers and hellhounds were scouting ahead while Rhynsa defended the main convoy group. The old man who he talked with noticed this and decided to walk beside him to talk with the Fuzandre.

“You know,” said the human. “I read some dreadful stories in my youth. It was a craze among us.”

“Dreadful stories?” asked Rhynsa. “Like horror stories? Supernatural, demons, all those kinds of things?”

“And because the writing’s awful.” The old man chuckled. “Not everything can be Eyres. That I know.”

“Eyres?”

“Francis Eyres, author of ‘The Quiet Independence’. It’s an introspective story about Adaline’s formation, how years of oppression and bad decisions birthed a nation. The focus of the book is the once taboo relationship between a Lycan and a human, and the moral implications of siring a child of the union. It is quite realistic, though it can be too intense. Can’t say I disagree. Eyres didn’t mince words. If he says lynching, he says lynching. If he says rape…well, guess what?”

“Doesn’t that sound too sensational to be good?”

“Books are not good because they’re well-written,” said the old man. “They’re good because people enjoy it. Why do you think I like dreadful stories? It’s engaging, it’s violent, and good for a lad’s day work. Some of them sent a message to the public. Many dislikes them. Ruffled the right feathers, weren’t they?”

“Depends on what feather is right. So, what’s your point again?”

“You and that other bat,” he started. “You two reminded me of Varney.”

“A vampire who feasts on blood, right? Well, the writer’s not far off.”

“That’s obvious enough, innit? What I mean is, you two don’t act aloof, or even villainous. Well, you sound like you’ve had quite enough, but that other one…he’s too cheery to be a vampire. Varney’s not like the more famous Dracula, but unlike him, Varney was a hero who despised his condition. He helps the poor, but in return, they must give him a pint of their blood as payment. He got into trouble with the police, of course, mostly because he’s very violent against his enemies. He kills those who wronged the poor, or those who wronged him.”

Rhynsa felt that it somehow described his exploits up to the point he met Ifrit. Considering that the old man said it was a story of his youth, it couldn’t be about him. However, he unknowingly followed the character’s pattern, and he could only sigh upon realizing this.

“What’s wrong?” asked the old man.

“Someone’s a bit more creative than I was,” said Rhynsa. “Oh, well. It’s not a contest. Anyway, about names, I don’t get your name, sir. We weren’t properly introduced before. I am Rhynsa.”

“Barnabas Stenborough,” said the old man. “Call me Barney.”

“Barney? Wait, are you telling me you like Varney because your name sounds alike?”

“Guilty as charge, sir,” said the old man with a chuckle. “Well, Rhynsa. What will you do after Cardogg? Get a boat back to your base? I know you’re not going to stay. You’re a bat on a mission.”

“What’s that got to do with you?”

“You may be a bat, but I know you hid a very dark past. You don’t have to be a human to know pain, not when one third of your population happened to be Lycans.”

Rhynsa sighed. “You are not the first. 20 years on the road, and in just three months, everyone claimed to know me.”

“20 years, eh? 20 years of endless fighting. Most people would break long before that.”

Rhynsa scoffed. “Well, can’t fix what’s already broken a long time ago, now.”

“Not exactly, Rhynsa. You haven’t crossed the line just yet.”

“What do you know about crossing the line?”

“I may not look like it now, but I used to be a rougher. You know…organized crime, and all that. I extorted, I bullied, and worst of all…I killed. But this wasn’t to protect others or to survive. This was business. Anything business-related would not be good for your conscience, especially when it involves killing. You know it, don’t you? You killed innocents and you got paid. It’s like a drug, see? In time, you don’t see others as living beings. You just see them as profit.”

“And you’re a crime boss, now, Barney?” asked Rhynsa.

Barney shook his head. “I’m just an old man with nothing to lose. Good thing I got out before I reached adulthood. But…these hands are not clean. Rhynsa, you are a bat on a mission. You killed because you know they deserved it. Your hands may be dirty, but they are dirty for a very good reason. I could tell you to keep this in mind, but you’re not a child. We’re both old enough to know.”

“Can I give you a suggestion?”

“What? Telling me to shut up?”

“How about telling me how you got out so early in life? If I could do that a long time ago, maybe things could be different.”

“Just believe that it’s not the end for you yet,” said Barney. “That you have a new purpose, a chance to redeem yourself. Now, when you get on a boat back, think about this. It will help you retire in peace.”

“Oh, I don’t plan to retire yet, old man.”

Barney chuckled. “You’re just about ready, Fuzandre.”

Rhynsa let out a wry smile. “Barnabas Stenborough”, he thought. “You remind me of him.”

But he was quickly interrupted by Mizarka, who ran towards him and said, “(We’ve got a problem).”

“(Enemy contact?)”

“(And something much worse. Follow me).”

Rhynsa assumed the worst-case scenario. If they were crossing paths with the bat demon again, there was no guarantee they could escape. The Fuzandre and the others would be trapped within his ability to amplify fear. Not only that, his ability to manipulate shadows was troublesome. Even if it wasn’t the bat demon, if it was a different bat demon with similar abilities, they would be in serious trouble.

Good thing that wasn’t the case. However, Mizarka did say it was bad.

And it was.