Matt Forbeck - Marked for Death

The Esprлs stood up and began walking toward him. They were zombies like the Karrnathi ones Kandler had killed the night before, but they had his daughter’s features and her long, blond hair. His held his sword before him, but he could not bear to strike the creatures, any of them. Instead, he ran.

The Esprл-zombies stampeded after Kandler, their feet tearing at the earth and raising a cloud of dust in their wake. He ran until his sides ached and his breath came in like a jagged knife. Every time he looked back, they were just behind him, no matter how hard he ran.

The wall of mist that defined the border of the Mournland rose up before him. He knew if he could reach it he would be safe. The creatures would not follow him in there. As he sprinted for the mist, though, it never seemed to get any nearer. The footsteps pounding behind him drew closer and closer with every second. He reached for the mist, but as he did a thousand undead hands grabbed him by the back.

Kandler woke with a start.

The pounding footsteps still sounded in his head. He sat up and called out for Burch.

“Right here,” the shifter said. He stood next to his own bedroll, the uncapped torch stabbing out of his right hand and parting the night.

“What are you doing?” the justicar asked. He shook his head, hoping to make the pounding go away, but it just got louder. “You want to bring every creature in the valley down on our heads?”

“Too late.” Burch pointed into the distance. “We got company.”

Kandler stood and peered into the darkness. Off in the direction in which Burch had pointed, the justicar saw four torches bouncing closer to them with every second. “Horses’ hooves,” he said. “I heard those in my dream. And those aren’t torches, are they?”

“Swords.”

Kandler shook his head. The knights either didn’t realize that anyone could see them coming from miles around, or they didn’t care. “It looks like they are that dumb after all,” he said. He patted Burch on the back. “Good thing you uncapped that torch. They might have run around all night waving those damned things around.”

“Moths to a flame,” said Burch.

“Who are the moths? Us or them?”

“The vampires maybe.”

Kandler scowled at that. His friend had a way of voicing his worst fears at the worst moments.

Burch held the torch high and waved it at the riders. They waved back in response and turned toward the light.

“Know what happens to those moths?” Burch said.

Kandler smiled despite himself. The shifter might have a dark view of the world, but that never dampened his bravado. “They get burned,” Kandler said.

“Hail and well met!” Deothen shouted as the four knights rode into the meager camp.

Kandler signaled Burch to cap the everbright lantern. As the shifter complied, Kandler stepped forward and addressed the knights. “I thought we’d seen the last of you.”

“We would not abandon good people in their hour of need,” Deothen said.

“Not as long as they’re still useful to you.” Kandler said. He found it hard to bite back his bitter feelings about the knights’ pursuit of Esprл.

“That our goals match is a happy coincidence.” Deothen smiled, either unaware of Kandler’s pique or willing to ignore it. Kandler saw that this was a pattern with the knights. He often couldn’t read their intent, but he supposed it didn’t matter much. Actions spoke louder than words.

Kandler watched the knights dismount. Deothen looked hale and hearty, as if the fight and the ride through the night air had lightened his spirit. Sallah frowned at Kandler and kept a careful eye on both he and Burch. Levritt’s eyes were even wider than normal, and they kept peering into the darkness.

“How are you?” Kandler asked Brendis.

The young knight moved his arm without defect. “In body, I am fine, but my heart is heavy.”

“I am sorry about Gweir. He was a good soldier.”

Kandler looked at the others and had to shield his eyes from the lights of their blades. “Could you put those things out?” he said. “All sorts of creatures come out around here at night. I’d rather we didn’t invite them into camp.”

Levritt and Brendis sheathed their swords, extinguishing the flames as they did. Sallah continued to carry hers about like a torch. Deothen stuck his point first in the ground in the center of the camp and let it burn.

“Let them come,” the senior knight said. “The power of the Silver Flame will keep us safe.”

From somewhere nearby, unseen in the darkness Burch snorted. “It didn’t save Gweir.”

Kandler shot the shifter a look that he doubted his friend could see. Exposed out here in the Mournland at night, this was no time to start a fight.

Deothen nodded. “The warforged caught us unawares. It won’t happen again.”

“Excellent!” a low, raspy voice said from behind the knights. “I’d hate to think this was a surprise.”

Sallah screamed and nearly dropped her sword. Kandler stepped toward her and drew his own blade. The time for hiding in the dark was over.

Before Brendis and Levritt could draw their swords, two dark-cloaked figures stepped from the darkness, their hands and faces luminous like moons in the light of the two still-blazing swords. They grabbed Brendis and Levritt and held them fast. The knights struggled but the vampires’ arms had the strength of steel bands, and they froze when they felt fangs against their necks.

“Hold still, little knightlings,” the same voice said, “or my friends will tear out your throats.”

Kandler recognized the voice. It belonged to the creature he’d last seen perched atop his roof like a monstrous bird of prey. As he watched, the figure melted into the light, as if it was the worst part of the night become solid, Kandler’s worst fears become real.

Deothen went for his sword, which still stabbed into the ground in the center of the camp near Kandler and Sallah. He didn’t get three feet before the leader called for him to halt.

“That’s far enough, great paladin,” the creature said. “I saw what you did to my fellows in that crater-town. If you touch that sword, we will kill your young charges before you can draw it from the earth.”

Deothen froze, his arm already reaching for his sword’s hilt. He drew his hand back and held it in the air. “As you say,” the senior knight said through bloodless lips.

Kandler stepped forward and stood near the sword.

“That goes for you, too, Justicar,” the leader said. “We can keep this civilized, can’t we?” The creature permitted himself a bloodless smile, baring his long, ivory-colored fangs. “Forgive my rudeness,” he said. “My name is Tan Du.”

“I’ll carve that on the marker over your grave,” Kandler said as he reached out and rested his hand on the pommel of Deothen’s sword. Brendis and Levritt cried out in fear as the beasts holding them tested their teeth on the skin of the knights’ necks.

Kandler barked a short, mirthless laugh. “Go ahead,” he said, praying that the vampire would not call his bluff. It was a risky gambit, but he wanted everyone’s attention on him right now. “Kill them,” he said coldly. “They’re nothing to me.”

The two other vampires drew back their fangs and looked at Tan Du for guidance. The beast bared all his teeth at Kandler in a vicious smile. “Of course,” he said, “but we have you by a different set of hairs.”

Tan Du raised his right hand high in the air. A voice rang out of the pitch-black night.

“Kandler!” It was Esprл. The voice was faint, distant, but there was no mistaking it. “I’m all right!”

The justicar left Deothen’s sword and stepped toward the vampire, his heart in his throat. “Bring her to me,” he said, struggling to keep the desperation from his voice. “Now.”