All of Warchester rested in a deep slumber, much the same as the last time Kilena confronted Lucy and Sebastion, when she killed their master. She doubled her efforts and quickened her pace, throwing one leg in front of the other. Her armor clanked noisily with every step. She burst out from the dilapidated archway, leaving Warchester behind. Targath released her arm and pulled ahead, cutting a path through fields of tall wheat.
Through heavy breaths, Kilena questioned, “How did they get inside of my house? Vampires cannot enter without permission.”
“A shack isn’t a house, Kilena,” Targath admonished, his attention wholly on placing one foot in front of the other to escape with their lives. He moved silently, swiftly, as if he was propelled by the wind. “And that’s a myth. Don’t you know anything?”
The stab of Targath’s harsh words spurred her sharpened response. “Certainly not as much as someone who has been alive for over a hundred years!”
Targath voiced his annoyance as a grunt, but he ended the debate there to save his breath.
In the dead of night with no moon to cast its silver glow, the woods were bathed in pure darkness. Kilena constantly looked over her shoulder, and threw out her arms after stumbling over tree roots. Targath grabbed her right wrist to guide her, aiding her to follow by watching his feet. This told her when to avoid obstacles that would make her trip, or when to slow down. She inhaled through pursed lips and pushed out a shrill whistle, but her breathlessness weakened the sound.
Running from vampires was like trying to flee the vengeful sting of a territorial wasp.
Suddenly, a humanoid frame collided with Targath’s back. Kilena was nearly dragged down to the ground with him, but he released her wrist before she lost her balance. She pedaled backward, taking in the sight of Lucy pinning Targath face first to the ground.
“You traded the human for a fey? A wise choice, Kilena,” Lucy taunted with an amorous hiss. Her knees pressed into his spine, palms against his shoulders. Squeezing, she forced a grunt out of him. “Stronger, firmer, more intelligent.”
Head rushing with panic, Kilena demanded, “Release him!”
“No, no, no. I think not, little girl,” she mischievously chuckled. “I want to take a bite out of this one first.”
The knight threw back her armored leg in preparation to swing it forward against Lucy’s ribs, but her armored forearms were yanked back in a grip like iron. Balance sundered, she was kept upright by Sebastion’s inhuman strength holding her arms behind her arched back.
Lucy sinisterly giggled, leaning down until her blonde head covered her victim’s neck. Targath tensed, seething through clenched teeth. A prick of ice, followed by throbbing veins, numbing to a dull ache.
A shocking roar deafened Kilena’s shout of protest. From the forest’s shadows lunged a dragon with claws sweeping upward at Lucy. Curved talons struck deep into her flesh. The impact sent her flying into the nearest tree. She slumped over in a daze, black blood spurting from her deep wounds and spreading through her torn dress like ink splotches.
Targath shoved himself away from the ground. He snapped his knee toward his chest and stabbed his foot into the ground, propelling upright with a grunt. He spun around, a hand clapped against his neck, golden eyes latching to Kilena restrained by the other vampire.
Utiss roared, rearing back on hind legs with leathery wings sprawled, making herself appear as large and menacing as possible to intimidate her quarry. Her front paws slammed the ground, crunching ferns, and she snarled in Kilena’s direction.
Sebastion squeezed the knight’s mouth shut, an arm looped through hers to pin her elbows together, rendering the sheathed sword in her left hand useless. Her other hand curled, clenched, and she wrenched left then right with her entire torso. “This one is wanted by Adam,” he calmly cooed. Frosty terror darted down Kilena’s spine by some magic carried in the name.
Targath brought his hands in front of him, one on top of the other, twisting around. Silver magic coated him from fingertips to wrists, and he vanished from sight.
For a breath, the air was still.
Suddenly, Sebastion yowled in pain. His torso arched backward, a hand gripping near his kidney where a dagger twisted and was yanked sideways, spraying shiny, black blood. Kilena escaped from his loosened grip, leaving Sebastion’s torso wide open to a slash from Utiss. Claws raked across his chest and he stumbled back. Seething, he hunched forward, arms crossed over his torso. “Time to go, Lucy,” his strained voice shouted through grit teeth.
Kilena blinked and the two were gone from sight.
Utiss approached the knight, her head rising and falling as she surveyed for signs of injury. “Kilena, what happened?”
Kilena’s chest burned as she tried to catch her breath while sheathing her equipment. The want to answer Utiss’s question overpowered the need to breathe. “The vampires, that survived, they came after me. Targath saved my life.” Kilena turned her attention to the cursed elf behind her. He was crouched, scraping away the blood on his dagger against a fern, and then sheathed it at his hip. Rising up to his lofty height, he moved a hand to his neck and dabbed at the warm blood leaking from the vampire bite. Kilena stepped toward him and ascended on the tips of her boots for a better look at his injury. “This is all my fault,” she whispered.
Targath’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed, glaring through a wall of ice directly into her sapphire orbs. “No, it’s mine for bothering to worry about you in the first place,” he grunted, fishing through a pouch on his belt at his waist for a scrap of linen to use as a bandage. Turning his shoulder to her, he stepped away. “You are in deeper shit than you realize,” he morbidly advised, folding the white cloth into a square. “Adam is the oldest, the lord of all vampires. He’s been contested many times and remains undefeated.”
Kilena sank to her heels, distributing her weight evenly. Her gaze followed his paces, until he plopped down against the trunk of a tree. Hesitantly, she questioned, “What does the lord of all vampires want with me?”
“Either your blood, or Amodeus has already convinced them to join Ivna’s side, not that it would take very much.” Targath pressed the white cloth against his wound, casting his scowl at the ground between his feet.
Kilena kneeled in front of him, eyes round and eyebrows knitted together. “Why is that?”
His eyes closed, and he dropped his chin toward his chest. A dull discomfort reminded him of the injury. His golden eyes slid up to find her face. In annoyed disbelief, he asked, “Do you know anything about vampires?”
“Not much, I am afraid.” she quietly admitted, and then offered an oral list of the information she did know. “Only dragons, or a weapon made from from their claw, tooth, or horn, can kill them. They thrive in darkness, and survive on blood. Also, it was widely believed most vampires died off after Ivna’s defeat.”
His head rotated back and forth, shaking slowly, and only stopped when he exhaled an audible breath. “Ivna’s corruption will bring darkness, so they’d already be persuaded by a world where they can run freely night or day. Like cursed elves, they are immune to the decaying effects of her power. If not the darkness itself, then the vampires are the biggest threat to life after the corruption spreads.” Targath paused, watching alarm spread across Kilena’s gentle features. Her eyes widened, soft lips parted to breathe and slow her quickened pulse. “But the main reason is because vampires are another result of Ivna’s meddling. They began as humans who prayed to the god dragons for longevity. Ivna granted their wish. After they were buried, they were risen again with a thirst for the blood of the living. And you have special blood. If vampires get a hold of you, they’ll never let you go. They’ll take you and drip you to sell your blood for profit.”
Kilena instinctively raised her hand toward her shoulder, fingers trailing toward the side of her neck.
Targath’s keen insight observed the way she dabbed at her neck, and he whispered, “Kilena, have you been bitten before?”
No marks or scars remained for her to touch, but the phantom sensation of Morgyn’s fangs breaking into her vein echoed a reminder. “Yes, I have,” she confessed quietly. Blinking, her eyes found the bark of the tree more interesting than Targath’s face.
”You never told me about that,” Utiss whisper on a murmuring growl.
“Morgyn overpowered me long enough during our battle. I wore the amulet at the time and with it my blood repulsed him,” she explained, glancing toward her dragon friend. “Our stay at Lateredeos not long after swiftly healed the mark that remained.”
Targath studied Kilena’s round face intently, the corners of his lips sinking into a frown. “As for your claim that vampires had begun to die out, that’s false,” he continued, capturing her attention. “Ever since Ivna’s defeat, they’ve secluded themselves in Umbraura, their city far to the south, and have a highly structured society. There are poor folks and nobles just like in human cities, but their world is a survival of the fittest. The weaker ones are preyed upon, like with fey. But it isn’t just about whose physically the strongest, or whose got more battle prowess. It’s about how cruel you can be. Vampires are solitary creatures. They form alliances but not bonds. The only bond is between a vampire master and their servant, and there are no nice masters. Servants are sent out to compete in battles, and bring back prey. Not all of them stay in that city. Some of them, like Morgyn, branch out to make servants and establish dominance for a consistent source of food. But all of them are beneath Adam.”
Kilena’s overwhelming dread stole her ability to speak. A heavy lump swelled inside her chest.
Targath afforded her almost a minute to absorb all the information he had provided. Then he delivered stern instructions. “More will come for you. You need to make a weapon out of one of Utiss’s claws as soon as possible.”
The dragon offered a word of caution that rumbled through her throat. “While I am not opposed to Kilena using one of my claws, no ordinary human can craft a weapon out of dragon material.”
Kilena’s head shifted, following the conversation, and then said, “Utiss is right. No human has the tools necessary to forge a weapon with a dragon claw. We will seek out Gregos in the morning,” the knight informed. “Surely a giant smithy must have the skill.”
“Good idea,” Targath said with approval. He leaned back against the tree with his head tilted. The white cloth had soaked up enough blood to stick there when he lowered his hand to relax. “How did you end up on speaking terms with a giant?”
Kilena regaled him with the tale of her adventure in which she saved a giant from the persecution of the village he lived closest to, and prevented a battle that would have needlessly ended the villagers’ lives. As she explained the involvement of the imps, she sat down beside Targath against the tree with her faithful sword and shield on the ground by her legs. Utiss curled up in front of the two, her head near Kilena, tail rounding out by Targath and ending behind the tree they were propped against.
He crossed his arms to rest them over his abdomen, eyes closing as the knight finished her story. “It’s dangerous to interfere in other people’s affairs,” he tepidly lectured.
“Interfering is how I discovered my dragonkin blood. That is how I met Ezekiel, saved Utiss, and made new friends,” Kilena reasoned thoughtfully. “Meddling seems to be the best way to prove I am every bit the knight I strive to be.”
The side of Targath’s lips that Kilena could see peeled back into a contemptuous sneer with a bitter scoff passing through his teeth.
The knight slightly winced, her fingers pinching a few blades of cool grass. Her head tilted down, the same as the corners of her lips. Silence spread thin between them, until she remembered to ask, “Targath, did you sleep last night?”
“No, I didn’t,” he answered curtly, without opening his eyes. “The one you called Lucy, she attacked first. She went straight for you, but I grabbed her and threw her aside.”
“That explains the clatter that woke me up,” Kilena realized with a small smile, raising her chin. Eyebrows knitting with concern, she asked, “Did you plan to stay awake all night?”
Targath’s lips tightened at the corners. “Why are you asking so many questions? You’re irritating me.”
“Because you need rest as much as I do.”
Glancing at Kilena, his shoulders sank from expressing a breath before he confessed, “No, I wasn’t going to sleep. That’s why I wanted you to sleep in bed.”
“As I feared,” she said remorsefully, studying the side of his face. “Will you accept my apology? Had I known you intended to watch over me I never would have argued with you about sleeping arrangements.”
Targath’s head tilted away from her, gaze dancing across her round face. “Apology accepted, but you are not forgiven unless you promise to listen to me from now on.”
The rounded tip of a dragon’s nose pressed against the knight’s knee to garner her attention. “Kilena, he wants to keep you safe. He saved you from Julian and he protected you from the vampires. Despite his crude demeanor, he has your best interest at heart. You should listen to him.”
Targath glanced between the two. “What did she say?”
Kilena’s head rotated toward the opposite direction, hesitating to glimpse him. Scanning the ferns a short distance in front of her as if they held answers. “That you want to protect me, and you are only thinking of my best interest,” she said contemplatively after a handful of protracted seconds. She fixed Targath with a steady gaze of intense sincerity. Resolved, she said, “I believe her. I promise to listen to you from now on.”
Targath’s head tipped back against the tree, his eyes sliding closed to snuff out their golden gleam. The corners of his lips twitched upward. “Then you are forgiven. Now go to sleep.”
Kilena Shrelack 