BLAKEN

The woman stopped and looked around again. Nothing. Darkness. She continued on, listening to the sounds of the night, but only the buzzing of cicadas and her footsteps disturbed the silence. The woman looked up. The sky was pitch black, clouds obscuring everything, even the pale crescent moon. The woman focused on watching her step. The winding path was barely visible, and roots sticking out of the ground threatened to trip her.

"Yes, Sarah, it was a brilliant idea to take a shortcut through the forest," she said ironically to herself.

She brushed aside the branches and continued walking. After a moment, she stopped. She listened. Silence. Even the cicadas fell silent.

And then she felt it. Something, like the icy touch of someone's gaze. She turned. Empty. She heard the creak of a branch. And again. Something large was quickly breaking through the undergrowth to the left. Sarah fled in panic. Fear gave her strength. Stumbling, ignoring the branches that cut her face, she ran forward, away from the cracking of the breaking bushes. The woman thought she felt a hot breath on her neck. The breath of something that shouldn't exist.

Sara caught her left foot on a root and fell to the ground. She stood up quickly and looked back. Silence. The sound of pursuit vanished.

A cicada chirped somewhere. Then another. Sara turned. She just had time to see the outline of a dark figure ahead of her and the glint of yellow eyes. Then strong arms grabbed her. She felt the foul breath on her neck. Dagger-sharp fangs tore through her larynx. Blood spurted from a severed artery. The attacker prevented it from flowing to the ground. He latched onto his victim, slurping down more blood as it flowed out in time with the beating of his weakening heart. Sarah's hands were shaking convulsively, and her eyes were already clouding over.

* * * *

Ore entered the inn. It was still early, but a few people were already inside. Ore headed toward a group of similar ragtag people standing in the corner of the room to the left of the bar. Several empty bottles of the cheapest wine explained their shifting glances.

"Oh, hello, Ore!" they shouted in unison, tossing him the bottle. Without hesitation, he put the neck to his mouth and downed almost the entire contents. A moment later, his booming laughter joined the others. The entire group numbered seven. All were unemployed and without responsibilities. All they had left was to look for some work so they could spend their side money on cheap whores and even cheaper wine.

"...just turn the stool upside down!" Gorlet, a short, fat man with a long beard, concluded the joke.

Once again, their laughter filled the inn.

Ore, seated facing the center of the room, surveyed the occupants with a dim gaze. A man was eating scrambled eggs, and a young couple huddled in the opposite corner. A few better-dressed men were playing craps at the largest table. Women, whose short skirts left little to be desired as to their profession, milled around them. These women sat mostly with the winners.

Ore knew them all at least by sight. Most were regulars. Almost all of them. In the corner of the room sat two strangers. And Ore didn't like strangers. Both were young, probably in their late twenties. The first had red, shoulder-length hair and a short beard. The second, sitting in the shadows, had black hair parted. Unruly locks fell over his eyes, hiding them.

Ore nudged Gorlet and pointed to the strangers. He smiled broadly and pulled a long knife from his belt. He staggered toward their table. The bartender pretended not to see anything. He knew it was pointless to get involved in such matters. Ore looked at the dark-haired man. There was something strange about his face. Pale skin, thin lips. Eyes still hidden in shadow. Ore stood in front of the table and slammed his knife into the wood. Neither of the strangers reacted. Ore grew even more nervous. He wanted to start a fight, but they did nothing. His drunken mind couldn't comprehend it. He was about to open his mouth to hurl an insult when the dark-haired man lifted his head and looked him in the eye.

Ore paled under that gaze and sobered instantly. Shaking, he took three steps back, turned, and ran out of the tavern, knocking over the companions standing behind him. He didn't even take his knife.

He didn't like strangers. But he liked life. And the stranger's gaze was the gaze of death.

* * * *

- Damn! Damn! "Arito Cornell, head of the Blaken city guard, shouted, pacing back and forth along the table.

The reporting officer looked at the polished toes of his boots.

"Where was he found?" Arito turned to his subordinate.

"Her, sir," replied officer Emil.

"What?

" "Her, sir. Because it was a woman's body.

" "A corpse is a corpse," Arito corrected. "Same problem, whether it's a woman or a man. Get to the point. "

The officer took a deep breath.

"The body was in the woods. Apparently, she was trying to take a shortcut home.

" "Someone knew her?

" "Yes, she worked at the inn. Her name was Sara.

" "Someone informed the family?

" "Yes.

" Arito stopped.

"What did you tell them?

" "That it was done by a wild animal, most likely a wolf.

" "And what really happened?" The head of the guard was pacing along the table again.

"We don't know. "

Emil wondered how much longer it would be before his superior carved a path through the floor.

"Again?

" "Well, I don't know...

" "Yes or no.

" "Yes."

The guard chief inhaled sharply.

"Same as last time? A slit throat, practically no trace of blood?"

Emil nodded.

"That's the seventh victim in a month. I wonder how I'll tell Elron."

Arito stopped at the window. He looked out, biting his lip. After a moment, he turned to the officer.

"Tell me, Emil," he said. "What or who do you think is ripping out people's throats and drinking their blood?

" "I don't know... I mean, those who know about this case say it's... a vampire.

" * * * *

"What?" Mayor Elron was clearly irritated. "In my city, seven people died the same way in a month, and since you can't find the perpetrator, you're inventing vampires for me!!"

This time, Arito lowered his head, looking at his shoes.

"Tell me, Arito, do you think there could be vampires here in Blaken? Where did they come from? Did they arrive with Indian summer? There haven't been any supernatural creatures in these parts for almost a hundred years.

" "And that plague of wererats two years ago?"

The mayor considered. Indeed, two years ago, three packs of over ten each wreaked havoc. Their victims were mostly livestock, but they also attacked humans.

"They were rats," Elron said. "As big as a dog, damned intelligent, but rats nonetheless. Not just any vampires.

" "But the victims..." Arito began.

"Yes, I know," the mayor interrupted. "The victims had their throats slit and their blood drank. And if it weren't for the fact that the temple of Akette protects us from Evil Beings, I would have believed it was a vampire.

" "No one has ever proven that Akette's priests truly have the power to ward off monsters." Many claim that—”

“Let them say what they want!” Elron interrupted once again. “I know one thing: for over a century, the city treasury has been paying the temple for protection, like most cities in Ledonia. So let’s hope we’re spending our money wisely. Nobody wants a scandal.”

Elron pondered, stood up, and opened a cabinet in the room. He took out two thick glass mugs and a straw-wrapped carafe. He poured wine into glasses and handed one to Arito.

“I’m not allowed to drink on duty,” said the head of the guard.

“Now you may.” The mayor took a sip of wine. “Tell me, Arito, what was done with the body?

” “It was buried quickly, so as not to arouse suspicion.”

“Good,” Elron nodded. “We don’t want gossip. If panic breaks out in the city, my position will be undermined.”

The head of the guard nodded.

"Increase the patrols. Check all the corners and dark alleys. I don't want any more casualties.

" "Yes, sir."

Arito saluted and moved toward the door.

"Arito!" the mayor called out to him.

The guard chief stopped and turned.

"I trust you," Elron said.

* * * *

Arito leaned back in the armchair in his quarters. He had just given new orders to his subordinates and now needed a moment of relaxation. He didn't want to dwell on the strange events in the city. He propped his feet up on the desk, put his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. He listened to the sounds from the market square coming in through the half-open window. A pounding on the door roused him from his state of blissful relaxation. Reluctantly, he swung his feet off the desk and sat up straight in the armchair.

"Come in!" His tone was far from pleasant.

A halberdier with a helmet on his head and a black city guard tunic over his quilted shirt saluted in front of the desk.

"What's the matter, Otto?" Arito didn't bother to change his tone.

"About two men, sir. They say it's urgent. "

The guard chief wasn't in the mood for conversation. Talking meant new work, and there was plenty of that.

"Can't they be dismissed?

" "No, sir."

Arito exhaled sharply.

"Show them in," he said.

The halberdier left and returned a moment later with two men. The first was short but well-built. He had long red hair and a matching goatee. The second was tall, despite the warm day, and was covered in a long cloak. His black hair reached just below his ears, unruly locks falling over his face.

"I think this conversation shouldn't be held in front of witnesses." The red-haired man glanced at the halberdier.

Arito considered. The strangers were unarmed. The guard chief adjusted his sword belt and nodded to the halberdier. When the door closed behind the red-haired man, he approached the desk.

"My name is Malden, my friend is Bishnar. But let's get to the point. You have a problem in the city." Arito stared into the speaker's gray eyes

. "Every city has its problems," he said.

"But not every city has the same problems as Blaken." The stranger called Malden didn't lower his gaze. Arito stood up and walked to the window.

- Nie w każdym mieście grasują wampiry - ciemnowłosy Bishnar odezwał się po raz pierwszy. Jego głos był cichy i lekko zachrypnięty. Naczelnik straży odwrócił się i już miał zamiar wyzwać obcych od głupców, kłamców i kretynów, gdy ujrzał oczy Bishnera, skamieniał. Nie wiedział dokładnie w czym rzecz. Te oczy były dziwne. Czarne, jakby źrenice okrywały tęczówkę. Białka zaś wściekle białe ,niemal fosforyzujące. Ich hipnotyzująca moc przerażała. Zniewalała umysł i ciało. Arito nie potrafił nie patrzeć w nie. One były wszystkim, pokojem ,budynkiem, całym światem. Naczelnik straży z trudem oderwał od nich wzrok.

- A jeśli mamy taki problem, to co?- spytał Maldena.

- To może będziemy mogli coś poradzić.

- Oczywiście odpłatnie? -bardziej stwierdził niż zapytał Arito.

- Oczywiście.

- Ile?

- Sto terów.

- Srebrnych?.

- Oczywiście, że złotych.

Arito zaczerwienił się z gniewu.

"What do you think you're doing! You come out of nowhere and shout nonsense! Blaken has no problems!"

Two halberdiers, alerted by the screams, ran into the hall. Arito gestured towards the strangers.

"Lead out..." He broke off, meeting Bishnar's gaze.

"We'll leave ourselves," the dark-haired man said. "If you change your minds about the city's problems, you'll find us at the Golden Inn."

* * * *

Ren didn't like evening patrols. He was glad he was with Melak tonight. He adjusted the belt that held his black city guard tunic. They were now walking down one of Blaken's dark streets. Melak nervously tapped his studded baton against his hand.

"Do you know why Arito increased the patrols?" Ren asked. "Is this about that murdered woman?"

Melak shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess so.

" "And do you believe that..."

"No. Vampires don't exist."

* * * *

Bishnar opened another bottle of wine. He slowly poured the drink down his throat.

"Mal, why did you want a hundred ter?" he asked.

The redhead shrugged.

"I didn't like the tone of his voice at the beginning of the conversation."

Bishnar laughed.

"You know I'd do it for free," he said after a moment.

"Me too," Malden replied. "But firstly, the money will come in handy, and the city won't get poorer at all, and secondly, nothing comes for free these days, so we might arouse suspicion. "

The dark-haired man laughed and took a sip of wine.

"Bish, do you have to drink so much?" Malden asked.

Bishnar looked him straight in the eyes and smiled sadly. His dagger-sharp teeth flashed eerily white.

"Would you rather I drink what I really want?

"

Ore staggered toward the house. Or so it seemed, even though he'd been wandering the alleys of Blaken for an hour, unable to find his way. The alcohol he'd consumed was taking its toll.

Suddenly he heard a soft sigh behind him. He turned. Ghostly eyes stared at him from above a maw gleaming with white fangs. A clawed paw rose to strike...

* * * *

Melak heard a scream. It came from around the corner. He and Ren exchanged glances and headed that way. A horrific sight awaited them. A rotting creature loomed over the fallen man, lapping loudly at the blood gushing from the wound.

Melak dropped his club and, sword in hand, lunged at the monster. It leaped to its feet, dodged the descending blade, and struck. Melak flew backward and crashed into the building's wall with a crash. Only his chainmail shirt and thick quilting armor saved him from disembowelment.

Ren swung his halberd. The creature's arm clattered to the ground, spraying yellow-brown gore everywhere. With a gasp, the creature turned and fled.

Ren stood trembling with fear. It seemed to him that his heartbeat could be heard throughout the city. He leaned against the halberd's shaft and breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. Moans from behind brought him back to consciousness.

"Wh... what the f...ing w... was that?" Melak stammered, feeling his side with his hands. At least two ribs were broken.

"Ren? What's wrong?

" "Nothing." The halberdier just inhaled deeply. "They say vampires don't exist."

The glassy eyes of the corpse lying on the ground stared blankly at them. The torn throat gaped red like a wide, toothless mouth.

* * * *

"Please follow me," Arito pointed Elron to the stairs leading down.

"I hope you're wrong," the mayor sighed deeply.

The flame of a torch illuminated the path to the basement. They stopped before the door. Arito knocked, and a moment later a man in a black tunic opened the door.

"Emil, bring some wine."

The attendant left the room with a sigh of relief.

Arito ushered Elron in and quickly walked to the table in the center. He took the torch from one of the guards, gestured for the mayor, and leaned over the object on the table.

Elron also leaned forward. And paled.

"Wh... what is that?" he stammered.

"A fragment of something the temple of Akette so wonderfully protects us from." Arito's tone was far from polite. "A fragment of something that supposedly doesn't exist."

Elron examined the fragment more closely. The hand, or rather paw, had been severed just below the elbow. The pale, wrinkled skin looked as if it were about to fall off in flakes. The strangest thing, however, were the fingernails. Unnaturally long, thickened, with uneven, sharp tips. There was dirt under the fingernails. And blood. The paw stank.

"Fuck," was the only comment Mayor Elron could muster.

"More like a bastard," Arito corrected. "It's a man's hand. "

Elron looked at him.

"If you come across a man with a hand like that anywhere in the city, behead him, stake him, and do whatever they do to vampires or other filth.

" "You didn't believe in vampires, did you?"

"It's never too late to believe," the mayor's tone was far from polite.

* * * *

Bishnar opened his eye. After a moment, the other one opened. He stretched, got out of bed, and went to the door, waking Malden on the way, who was lying on the bunk next to him.

"What's the matter?" Mal clearly wanted to sleep some more.

Footsteps, and then a knock on the door.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sensitive Ears," the warrior smiled wryly and went to open it.

A young woman in an apron appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with a squat carafe and two dark glasses. She smiled shyly.

"I was supposed to bring these to you gentlemen."

Malden placed the tray on the table. The girl bowed slightly and left.

"Did you order wine?" Mal turned to his friend, who had uncorked the bottle with his teeth.

"Porton Sene," Bish poured the wine into the glasses. "My favorite vintage."

He drained his cup in one gulp, savoring the taste. Mal took his wine, went to the tray, and picked up the napkin. As he expected, there was a letter underneath. Bishnar raised his glass in a silent toast and smiled, his lips pursed.

"We have a job?" he asked.

Malden read the note quickly and pocketed it.

"The head of the Blaken city guard, Arito Cornell, invites us to discuss our offer."

Bishnar walked over to his bed and picked up two belts with attached sheaths. Each held a saber. He took one out and weighed it in his hand. A light, perfectly balanced blade, curved, with an outer feather. An ornate, covered hilt, covered with sharkskin. Bish examined the blade. Despite repeated use, there were no nicks. The hardest steel, the craftsmanship of which was known only to the Far East. He could buy a village for those two sabers. He grabbed a napkin and tossed it into the air. The two flashes merged into one. The four pieces of napkin fell to the floor.

"You know, Mal, we're going to have something to do.

"

Schody były nierówne i śliskie. Ściany w miejscach oddalonych od pochodni obrośnięte były zielonymi porostami. Cuchnęło stęchlizną i dymem.

Ren prowadził do piwnicy dwóch mężczyzn. Nie był pewien, w jaki sposób mieli oni pomóc, jednak Arito liczył na nich. Ren przyjrzał się im uważnie. Było w nich coś, co budziło strach. Dziwna siła i pewność siębie. Nie był pewien, kogo wolałby mieć po przeciwnej stronie miecza – potwora z wczoraj, czy któregoś z nich. Byli dziwni.

Szególnie ten czarny, wysoki. Strażnik nie zgadywał nawet koloru jego oczu, wciąż ukrytych w cieniu.

Stanęli przed drzwiami.

- To tutaj – Ren zapukał. Po chwili otworzył Arito.

Spojrzał na przybyłych.

- Wejdźcie. – Mel i Bishnar wkroczyli do komnaty.

- Ren – Arito krzyknął za odchodzącym strażnikiem - ty też zostań.

Bish od razu podszedł do stolika stojącego w centrum pomieszczenia i podniósł leżącą tam łapę. He looked at it carefully, sniffed it.

Arito noticed that the warrior hadn't approached the torch. He was examining it in the shadows, but the dim light didn't seem to bother him.

"Nice cut," Bish said. "A halberd?

" Ren nodded.

"Do you know what this is?" Arito pointed to his paw.

"A piece of tainted.

" "Who? "

Bishnar shrugged.

"Call it what you want: zombie, undead, undead, but tainted fits best.

" "Vampire?" Ren asked.

Bishnar shook his head. Arito gestured to the table. They sat down, and the guard chief placed a keg in front of them and handed them mugs.

"Start from the beginning," he said to Bishnar.

The dark-haired warrior filled his mug with beer. He tasted it. The beer was bitter and cold. He liked it that way.

"Maybe I'll start with vampires." Bishnar's voice was soft, mesmerizing. "I won't go into detail about the individual species and subspecies. Generally speaking, vampires are divided into ordinary vampires and Animators, also known as Higher Vampires or Lords. Every sufficiently strong and intelligent vampire has a chance to advance to the next level, to become an Overvampire – an Animator.

" "What's the difference between a vampire and this Animator?" Ren couldn't contain his curiosity.

"An Animator is a vampire who, in addition to greater strength and magical abilities, is able to create and control his servants – the tainted ones. The bite of an ordinary vampire is like the bite of any other predator. Only the wound doesn't heal properly and the blood takes longer to clot.

" "And the victim turns into a vampire?" Arito blurted out.

Bishnar's gaze froze the blood in the guard's veins.

"Consider," the black-haired man's voice vibrated in the room, "what if every vampire bite caused a transformation? How long would it take for not a single untransformed human to remain on Earth?"

Arito blushed.

"Continuing," Bish continued, "an ordinary vampire must feed directly from the victim's body. The Animator is sufficiently supplied with the vital forces drained by the tainted one.

" "There is a bond between the Animator and the tainted one," Malden added. "A Vampire Lord's victim can become his puppet, lifeless and without will of their own, driven by the thoughts and mind power of their master.

" "And thus, the Higher Vampire doesn't have to leave his lair to feed. He uses the tainted ones.

" "Of course, he doesn't deny himself the pleasure of sucking a throat from time to time," Malden added with a smile, "although he spends most of his time in meditation, lethargy." To us humans, something like this might seem like a waste of time, but let's remember that vampires live for hundreds, even thousands of years.

Silence fell, broken only by the sound of drinking beer.

"How do you kill this bastard?" Arito finally asked.

"Silver or decapitation will suffice for a tainted one. For an ordinary vampire, it's better to burn them, just to be safe.

" "And a Higher Vampire?

" "Cut them into pieces, burn them, and pray they're enough.

" "Sunlight?

" "It depends on the species. Some won't hurt them, others will be struck, perhaps even blinded. There are also species for which sunlight is deadly. The truth is, vampires don't like daylight. It's the moon that gives them their power. That's why tainted people can only function then.

" "And garlic?" Ren asked.

"It's like seasoning yourself."

Silence fell again.

"To sum up," Arito began, "will a good cut, silver, or fire be enough?"

"And something else," Malden interjected, "luck and inhuman speed."

The city guard chief looked surprised.

"Have you ever tried to hit an arrow in mid-flight?" Bish asked.

Arito denied it.

"A vampire is almost as fast. A killing machine without equal. A Higher Vampire also has magical abilities. Hypnosis, mind-reading, instilling fear, levitation. These are just some of the abilities.

" "So what should I do?" Arito asked with a grim expression.

"You can waste people in vain," Malden began.

"Or give this job to professionals." Bishnar's eyes drilled into his brain, piercing him with depth, power... Arito Cornell lowered his gaze with difficulty. He flexed and unflexed his fingers, trying to calm himself.

"A hundred ters, as you said," he began, "but only after the job is done."

Bishnar smiled. His thin, pale lips remained pursed, paired with his eerie eyes, giving his face a grotesque expression.

* * * *

The warriors gave Arito some advice. The rest of the day was spent studying a map of the area. Malden marked spots where the Animator might be hiding. They found six such locations. The most likely were the ruins of Castle Naar, the suburban sewers, and the catacombs of the suburban cemetery. They decided to check these first.

Arito showed a list of people who had disappeared in recent weeks, along with their most frequent locations and where corpses had been found. The average Animator is satisfied with eight to twelve tainted.

In this case, considering the number of victims, Mal was projecting an upper limit. Plus, of course, an allowance.

* * * *

"Fifteen monsters?" Arito clearly hadn't expected so many.

"And a vampire," Malden added grimly.

"How many guards have you managed to supply with silver-tipped pikes?" Bishnar asked.

Arito had spent the entire morning trying to convince the mayor to fund silver bolts and pike tips. And although he finally managed to convince Elron, the lack of time had prevented him from adequately preparing.

"Sixteen pikes and twenty bolts.

" Malden decided it wasn't worth commenting.

"I've also increased the patrol size to six people per group. Twenty-five groups.

" "Good," Bishnar nodded. "Malden and I will cover the eastern side of the city, from the ruins of Naar. Place the silver-tipped patrols towards the catacombs and the tunnel exits. The rest should carefully patrol the normal areas.

" "Will all the creatures be in one place?

" "The problem is, they won't," Mal sighed. "They'll most likely be in many different areas. That makes locating the nest more difficult. But we'll deal with that tomorrow."

Bishnar nodded to the window. He pulled back the curtains and looked outside. The traffic had thinned. Dusk was slowly falling. The setting sun was invisible behind the buildings, but the sky had taken on a red hue. Bishnar smiled. The night promised to be as bloody as the evening sky.

* * * *

Ren, leading his five men, marched down a side street, not in the center, but to the southwest. From the direction of the catacombs. His damp, sweaty hands gripped the shaft of his pike. He would have preferred a halberd. He preferred hard steel to soft silver. But Malden and Bishnar insisted that silver was better. Something made Ren believe them.

Besides himself, the group included three halberdiers and one crossbowman. With only two silver bolts.

They approached the road leading to the cemetery. And the catacombs. Ren turned toward the lights of the nearby outskirts of the castle. The sounds of life were reassuring. However, they had to check the cemetery.

"Perhaps we should have taken flowers?" the nervous voice of Erik the halberdier broke the silence. "To respect the dead."

The laughter was nervous and forced. After a moment, it subsided. They entered the cemetery grounds. The graves, depending on the wealth of the buried, were simple mounds, marble slabs, sometimes decorated. Farther back, behind a ridge of dried willows, began the old cemetery, with its vaults and crumbling graves. Catacombs.

Erik lit three torches and handed them out. The shadows cast by their figures, clad in chainmail and tunics, leaped from tombstone to tombstone, from bush to bush, creating the illusion of beasts lurking nearby.

A light mist draped their legs in a milky-white shawl. The moon's shield appeared every now and then from behind the clouds obscuring the sky.

Ren held a torch in his outstretched left hand, his right wielded a pike.

They moved cautiously, combing the bushes, peering behind tree trunks, monuments, and gravestones.

The rustling of grass, glowing green eyes, and a loud snort roused them from their trance of tense nerves. The halberds struck simultaneously, the crossbow string groaning, discharging a bolt.

The black cat, the cause of the disturbance, narrowly avoided the blows and hid in the bushes on the other side of the path.

"Fools!" Ren hissed. "First, watch what you're doing. And think. A head isn't just for wearing a helmet."

Confused, they avoided meeting his eyes. The crossbowman bent down, shining his torch. He found the bolt embedded in the soft earth. Fortunately, the silver head was undamaged.

"I'm nervous too," Ren said, "just as nervous as you are, but we're not going to kill each other over a simple cat. We'll move on."

The cat was black, Erik thought. I hope it won't bring bad luck.

The nearby catacombs, whose broken slabs seemed to beckon like a huge, toothless mouth, didn't improve the mood.

* * * *

Castle Naar was built by Hejst II the Great in 1062. A hundred years later, this mighty fortress was destroyed during the Ten Years' War. What could be burned was burned. What could be destroyed by catapult missiles was crushed. The war ended, but there was no money for reconstruction.

Now, almost two hundred years after the war, the ruins were a habitat for birds, bats, and a meeting place for many couples. And much more.

Two men approached the ruins slowly. The first, short and stocky, lit a torch in his left hand. In his right, he held a small, powerful crossbow. The second crossbow was folded in a sheath at his belt. Bolt feathers protruded from the quiver. The bolts were silver. The torchlight illuminated the road and the man's red hair, hidden beneath his thick, mouse-like coat.

The second didn't need a torch. The darkness didn't hinder his eyes.

"Can you feel them?" Mal asked.

Bish shook his head. Nothing. No presence.

"Let's get closer," he suggested.

They passed through a crack in the wall. The former courtyard was now overgrown with bushes, grass, and clumps of dandelions. They crossed the courtyard and stood before the entrance to the ruined castle.

"Shall we go in?" Mal asked.

Bishnar took a few steps into the dark corridor.

"I don't feel anything," he said. "If there were any tainted here, I could have sensed them from about fifty meters. I don't think there's anything here. Let's check deeper. "

They continued walking, carefully examining every nook and cranny and remnant of the former chambers. Moonlight shone through the leaky roof.

"Nothing but bird shit," Bish said.

"Not just bird shit." Mal leaned against the wall, polishing his shoe with a stick. "I don't think it's here."

The black-haired man nodded. They began to back away.

"This place would seem perfect.

" "Maybe too perfect.

" "Yeah. "

They emerged through the ruined corridor back into the overgrown courtyard. They passed through a breach in the wall.

"Where now?" Malden asked.

"We'll check those old—"

A furious snarl echoed in the night's silence. Three tainted men rushed at them, rolling their faded eyes. Long, sharp teeth protruded from the deformed mouth, dripping saliva and green phlegm. Blue hands with clawed, rotting paws reached out towards them.

The warriors reacted instantly. Malden released a crossbow bolt. It slammed into the skull of the first zombie, knocking it to the ground. Bishnar lunged at the other two. Sabers, drawn without warning, hissed through the air... And more. Avoiding the claws, the black-haired man spun swiftly between the tainted. The blades in his outstretched hands, like the wings of a windmill, left luminous streaks in the air. A whistling sound followed, followed by the sound of slicing flesh. The head of the first zombie fell to the ground two meters from the body. The second creature retreated, grinning and clutching the stump of its right arm. Bishnar smiled, flashing white fangs. The two blows merged into one. The tainted man's head and torso, severed at the waist, fell separately to the ground.

"Nice cut," Malden commented, approaching his friend. He now held loaded crossbows in both hands.

Bishnar pulled a cloth from his belt and calmly wiped the ichor from his saber blades. They looked at the tainted man Mal had struck. The silver bolt was fusing with the flesh, creating a foaming, foul-smelling mess.

"There's still about four hours until dawn," Bish said. "We have to hurry.

" * * * *

"Damn!" Erik cursed as three enormous rats scurried between his legs.

They had almost covered the entire area. The halberdier entered one of the last tombs, lighting himself with a torch. His nerves were strained to the breaking point. A flickering flame revealed the interior of the mausoleum from the darkness. A pile of rubble, rotting wood, rats.

"Nothing," Erik reported, emerging from the tomb.

A livid face opened a swollen mouth just above his shoulder. Long, sharp teeth gleamed in the gloom.

"Get down!" Barg shouted, squeezing the trigger of his crossbow.

Erik reacted instantly, lunging forward. The bolt whizzed past his cheek and lodged in the zombie's open mouth. The halberdiers rushed to finish the creature off. It wasn't necessary. The bolt, foaming and smoking, melted into the flesh.

"She was a damn woman," remarked Dawid, the broad-shouldered halberdier.

"I'd rather have a sheep than such a woman," Barg declared, cocking his crossbow again. With a final silver bolt,

Erik rose from the ground and shook the crossbowman's hand. Words were unnecessary.

* * * *

The residents of Blaken, sleeping in their homes, had no idea of ​​the horrors unfolding in the city. Only the moon shining in the sky witnessed them. Only he saw Bert, one of the guards, fall on his back, blood spraying from his torn throat at his companions as they tried to strike the creature whirling between them. Only he saw another tainted one, cut almost in half by a halberd, still manage to shatter the halberdier's skull. Only he saw many more bloody incidents taking place in various parts of Blaken. Only he and the people involved. Finally, this silent witness concluded that the sun would now take his place in the sky.

* * * *

"Dawn," Malden declared, "and we haven't located the nest.

" "Perhaps others were luckier," Bish said.

During the night, they searched a large swath of the city, but apart from the three tainted ones, they found nothing in the ruins. They headed for the town hall. As they entered, they passed several Fridays reporting on the past hours. Their experiences left their mark on their faces.

Officer Emil recognized the warriors and led them to the mayor's office. Inside were Elron, Arito, and two other guard officers. Everyone's expressions were grim.

"Did you manage?" The mayor's voice held hope. "Did you find the nest?"

Malden shook his head in denial. Bishnar gratefully accepted Arito's offered cup of wine. He was angry. Very angry. And he didn't know exactly what it was. Something, some vague premonition, had taken root in his subconscious, haunting him.

"We've taken out three of the tainted," Malden began, "but no sign of the nest. And what about you?

" "We've lost seven men, ten more are wounded," Arito said. "We've killed six monsters, so it's not so bad, I guess.

" "It's not so bad?!" Bishnar spoke for the first time. "It's terrible! Much blood has been shed, and we've gained nothing!

" "How so?" Elron asked, surprised. "But nine creatures...

" "Yes! Yes!" The black-haired warrior vented his anger. "We've killed nine. Except we haven't found the Animator, and one night is enough for him to replenish his minions. You can't kill a shark by knocking out a few of its teeth." New ones are growing in their place. We have to cut off the beast's damn head, but to do that, we have to find it!

Elron paled. The mayor wasn't used to such a tone from his interlocutors, but surprisingly, he wasn't angry at the black-haired man. He was angry at himself, because Bishnar was right. Arito broke the silence, placing a map of Blaken on the table.

"Two of the tainted were killed near the catacombs," he placed two copper coins there. "Two more near the sewers.

" "The fifth was here," one of the guard officers pointed to a place on the map with the charming name "garbage dump."

"The sixth was, surprisingly, in the market square. He must have been spending the day under one of the stalls. That was the worst. The patrol that stumbled upon it had no silver. The creature mauled four boys before they decapitated it.

"Three of ours fell here," Mal pointed to the ruins.

There were already nine coins on the map, but their arrangement didn't indicate anything. Bish cursed. It was the first time it had been so difficult. Usually, he managed to locate the vampire on the first night using his senses. And then the better one won. So far, he had always been the better one. He smiled, lips pursed, remembering the eight vampires he'd slashed open. But now something was wrong. Bish glanced at the map, searching for more places worth checking. But what if the guards hadn't searched properly and the vampire was now laughing at them from some crypt? And that strange premonition.

"We have to find him tonight," he said.

"Can't we search during the day?" the second officer asked.

"No, Pars," the mayor quickly interjected. "Someone might suspect something. I don't want a scandal just yet. We'll only accuse the Temple of Akette of fraud when we're finished.

" "Besides," Malden explained, "the creatures are buried during the day. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

Bishnar studied the map silently. He wondered what was troubling him so much. Tonight, they'd be patrolling all the suspicious spots, and if the vampire even poked his head out of his hiding place, then... So what? A few guards would get a close-up look at his own guts, and the bloodsucker would leave Blaken in peace.

And Bish didn't want that. And he wasn't after the money. But the answer. The answer to the question...

"What do you think?" Malden shook him gently, breaking him out of his reverie.

"I need to think. Think seriously."

The black-haired man glanced at the map again to make sure he remembered it correctly, bowed slightly to the men in the room, and left.

He had to think. And drink.

* * * *

One last sip, and the bottle was empty. He tossed it onto a pile of other empty bottles. And thought. Still thinking. For hours. He knew the solution was close. Yet it still eluded him.

He analyzed the facts. The answer was somewhere.

"Can you feel it?" Malden asked.

Bish shook his head. Nothing. No presence.

It's close, getting closer.

I don't feel anything," he states. "If there were any tainted here, I would have detected them..."

Three tainted ones attacked them...

He laughs loudly. He knows the answer! He can't help but laugh. It was so obvious!

* * * *

"He was shielding.

" "What?

" "He was shielding, dulling my senses," Bish said.

Malden pondered.

"That's why I didn't sense those three tainted ones back in the ruins. He must be somewhere there. He's strong.

" "Lord?

" The black-haired man nodded.

"Can you handle him? "

Bishnar looked his friend in the eye and smiled, showing off a set of sharp teeth.

* * * *

"You checked the ruins, didn't you?" Arito said.

They were at the mayor's again. It took some time before the warriors explained that Naar must be harboring a monster. It was difficult because they didn't want to reveal Bishnar's abilities.

"Were there vaults beneath the castle?" Malden asked.

Elron pondered.

"Very possible, although it will be difficult to get to them.

" "If they really existed," Arito interjected, "then it should be marked on the maps. I'll send for someone to the library."

With that, he left the room. He could be heard shouting at one of his subordinates. A moment later, he returned.

Elron stood in front of the window, staring at the people in the market. A gray mass squeezed between the stalls, vendors shouted, touting their wares. Unaware.

The mayor glanced at the sun. Noon had passed some time ago. Elron was tired. And afraid. He wanted it all to be over. He would have to submit a detailed report. He would diminish the contributions of the strangers, perhaps omit them altogether. He didn't want to share the reward he expected from the king. But first, it had to be over.

"Since morning, the blacksmiths have been forging silver tips for pikes and bolts," Elron said.

"They won't be needed," Bish said.

"What?

" "It's our job. It's not worth endangering your people.

" "That's what you pay us for," Malden added.

Elron nodded. A thousand gold ters was little compared to the rewards he expected.

Besides, it was the city treasury that paid. Pure profit.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Arito said.

The clerk entered, saluted, and handed the mayor rolls of paper.

"Maps from the library.

" Elron spread them out on the table. Everyone leaned over them.

The maps were old. Very old, and it looked like no one had bothered to fix them. The paper was yellowed, and one page was also smeared with ink. The first map had been discarded outright. It was a plan of the rooms and their dimensions. The second focused more on the castle's exterior. The drawings were so faded they were barely visible.

"You didn't think they'd just mark the underground passages on any map, did you?" Elron said, seeing the doubtful looks of those present.

The third map, the one smeared with ink. The dungeons. Finally, something more concrete.

"Look!" Arito shouted. "There are corridors."

Indeed, there were. The problem was that most of the map was hidden by black ink stains.

"Do you know why I think the gods are a bunch of stupid, malicious people?" Mal asked Bishnar.

Elron considered.

"Well, we can break through the walls, I suppose?" he suggested.

"I'm not sure," Arito shook his head. "I'd better send for one of the engineers.

" "Let it be someone I trust; we don't want gossip."

Arito left the room once more. Malden slowly studied the map. The yellowing paper made it difficult to read the faded drawings, but he thought he'd found a few places that could be entrances to the corridors. He shared his observations with the rest of the group. A few minutes later, Arito returned with a short, slender man in a blue tunic over a white shirt.

"This is Master Jan, one of our best architects," the chief of the guard introduced him to the warriors.

The newcomer immediately began examining the map.

"Here and here," he pointed, "the chambers are completely blocked, and there's no chance of entering the basement. We might be able to get in through that room where the wine was stored. It's a pity the entrances weren't precisely marked."

"And here?" Malden pointed to the narrow corridor.

Jan shook his head.

"Even if we got inside, we could only get ten or twelve meters. The ruined walls of the knights' hall had surely collapsed this part of the underground. I think the best solution would be to consider it on the spot.

" Elron shrugged.

"You have my permission to do anything that won't attract people's attention. I have a lot of work to do. Arito, take care of this."

The guard chief nodded.

* * * *

By day, the ruins didn't look as forbidding as they did at night. Malden studied the remains of the thick walls and the once-massive gate. In place of the former gardens grew lush grass, clumps of dandelions, and here and there wild rose bushes. In places, the wall was completely overgrown with moss and ivy.

Of the once-massive castle, only ruins remained. Of the four towers, only one survived, and around it lay the remains of chambers, most of them roofless and buried under rubble from the upper floors.

Most of the stones had been taken and used by the peasants to build houses.

"This is how man-made power fades," said Master Jan.

The architect, accompanied by Arit, Malden, Bishnar, and three guards, entered. Four more guards remained at the entrance. Bish glanced at the sun. They had at most three hours left.

"A tunnel runs beneath us," said the architect as they traversed the former knights' hall. "There should be a hidden entrance in the next chamber.

" "Can't we just tear down that accursed wall?" asked Mal.

"No chance. The old masters knew their stuff. We'd need heavy equipment, and even then we'd sooner have the ruins of the castle collapse on our heads than reach the corridors."

They entered another chamber. The wall was intact, and little light filtered through the two openings in the wall that had once been windows. Jan walked over to one of the walls and began to examine it carefully. The guards lit torches, illuminating the room a bit.

"What should we be looking for?" Mal asked, approaching the other wall.

"Something you can push or move. Try moving a torch closer to the wall; maybe the passage isn't sealed enough and a gust of air will give it away."

Bish walked over to the wall. His senses were too weak during the day to detect anything. He had to rely on instinct. And not on human instinct. The passage couldn't have been very well camouflaged if a vampire had discovered it. And he probably did so accidentally. Bish ran his fingers along the wall, trying to detect something. Anything.

"I think I found it," Jan said. "Give me the dagger."

Arito tossed him his. The architect knelt by the wall and began scraping away at the moldy mortar. Bishnar slowly drew his sabers, and Malden loaded both crossbows. Arito and the guards also prepared themselves. After a moment, Jan stood and smiled with satisfaction. He pressed one of the stones protruding from the wall, and they heard the grinding of a lever. A hidden door in the wall slid open. The architect backed away, sensing a stench emanating from the center of the secret corridor. Bishnar carefully pushed the door all the way open and peered inside. The narrow corridor curved to the right after a few meters. Malden glanced out the window at the sun dipping toward the horizon. Only a few minutes remained. The warriors preferred to reach the vampire before the moon increased his power and revived the tainted.

"Stay here," the dark-haired man said, and he and Mal moved further down the corridor.

The musty smell was almost unbearable. Bish moved slowly forward, staring intently at the twisting corridor.

"It's dark in here, damn it," Mal cursed.

He had to pick up a torch and carry it in the same hand as one of the crossbows. Around the bend, the corridor continued straight, then turned again. Bish felt the rising moon giving him new strength. His senses began to sharpen.

"I wonder if the vampire knows we're approaching? And will he waste his energy shielding himself, since we have to find him anyway?" he thought.

The corridor widened so that they could now walk side by side.

And then Bishnar felt a presence. The stronger one came from far ahead. But he sensed something behind him, to his left. Something was wrong. The corridor ahead of them turned again and ended abruptly. The passage was littered with stones that filled the space to the ceiling.

"Damn it," Bish cursed, "we're going back, quickly!"

He overtook Maden, who had to light his way with a torch. As he rounded another bend, he heard the sounds of combat. He ran from the secret corridor straight into the middle of it. Three guards lay bloodied on the floor. One was headless. Master Jan was leaning against the wall with both hands, trying to stem the flow of blood from a wound in his chest. Arito and four guards did their best to defeat five of the tainted. The sixth, struck by three silver bolts, foamed on the floor. The guard chief dove under the arm of one of the monsters and slashed with the sword he held in his right hand, striking it in the side. The creature hissed and grabbed him by the helmet, bringing the knight's face close to its yellow fangs. Arito plunged the silver dagger in his other hand into that stinking maw.

The Corrupted One fell to the ground, snarling, dragging Cornell with him. Bish jumped between the combatants. With a downward blow, he split the skull of a monster that was sinking its fangs into the shoulder of one of the guards. Another halberdier, thrown with tremendous force, flew across the hall. Blood spurted from his severed right hand. Two Corrupted Ones simultaneously rushed at Bishnar. One struck from above with a clawed paw, the other lunged at the warrior's legs, trying to trip him. The black-haired One cut off the falling hand and leaped upward, slashing with his second saber. A headless corpse struck his legs, knocking him to the ground. The Corrupted One, without a hand, lunged at him, teeth gnashing. A soft groan of the bowstring, and the monster, struck in the eye, roared in pain. Malden rushed to help. A bolt from the second crossbow finished the job. Bishnar podniósł się z podłogi i skoczył na pomoc dwóm trzymającym się jeszcze na nogach strażnikom. Wirujący między nimi stwór raz za razem zadawał kolejne ciosy. Bish wyskoczył w powietrze trafiając potwora obiema nogami. Upadli oboje, jednak ciemnowłosy wojownik podniósł się od razu i wprawnym ruchem odrąbał zębaty łeb.

Bishnar rozejrzał się dookoła. Malden z załadowanymi kuszami przyklękł przy Janie, przyciskając do jego rany wyjęty spod kolczugi opatrunek. Arito z jękiem wyczołgał się spod skażonego, którego ubił.

Z siedmi strażników tylko jeden mógł ustać o własnych siłach. Czterech już nie żyło, a dwaj pozostali krwawili obficie z wielu ran.

- Jak to się stało? – Spytał Malden.

- Pojawili się chwilę po tym jak weszliście do korytarza. Wskoczyli przez dziurę w tamtym murze -Arito wskazał otwór ręką.

"Get a medic and get the wounded out of here," Bishnar said.

"And you?

" "I'm going hunting."

Malden and Arito began pulling out the wounded. The newest guard ran for the medic. The redbeard watched anxiously as his friend disappeared through the gap in the wall.

Bish emerged on the other side of the courtyard. He walked slowly, glancing around. The moon reflected on the silver blades of the sabers. The warrior noticed a pile of boulders against one of the walls. There must be an opening there, he thought. Holding the blades in front of him, he approached cautiously. He was right. The sliding boulders must have revealed the entrance to the tunnel. This seemed to be the correct entrance.

Bishnar peered inside. He felt a rush of air, and before he could react, a batlike shape flew out of the opening, striking with its claws. Only inhuman reflexes saved the warrior's neck. The claws only caught his cheek and ear. The enormous bat rose into the air, paused for a moment, then dived down. Bishnar didn't wait. He pushed off the ground and, in a long, three-meter leap, charged toward the creature. They collided two meters above the ground. Silver blades against fangs and claws. The black-haired man felt a blow to his side, but realized with satisfaction that one of the sabers had cut more than just air. The warrior and the bat hit the ground. They jumped up simultaneously. Now, before Bishnar, a beast covered in black bristles stood on four powerful paws. A wolf-like head with enormous fangs grew from a bear's neck. With a roar, the monster leaped at the warrior. The vampire dodged the fangs with a double somersault. The vampire reared up on his hind legs and attacked, flailing the air with his paws. Bish dodged the blow and roundhouse struck the beast's muscular neck. However, the creature was too fast, and the silver blade barely grazed him. The struck warrior flew several meters through the air and fell to the ground. He managed to get up just in time to see the beast flying at him.

He dodged to the side, twirling his sabers. The vampire backed away, snarling. Blood oozed from his slashed side.

The entire encounter lasted only a few seconds, but Bish gasped for air. The vampire transformed again. Now he appeared in his human form. Before Bishnar stood a tall, handsome man. His long black hair was tied in a braid. He wore black leather trousers and a matching shirt. A gold brooch in the shape of a wolf's muzzle held his scarlet coat with navy blue lining at the neck. The shirt was slashed open on the chest and shoulder. Blood seeped from shallow wounds.

Bish breathed heavily, feeling pain in his side. A rib was broken. His torn ear stung.

"You are good, Shadowson," the vampire said. "You have proven yourself worthy of respect."

The warrior remained silent, gathering his strength. The moonlight brought relief to his wounds. Just like it did to his opponent. The wound on the vampire's chest was now only a scratch. Bish gritted his teeth and prepared to attack.

"Wait," the vampire read his thoughts. "Why do you fight me, brother?

" "I am not your brother," he growled through clenched fangs.

The creature only shrugged.

"You don't even know who you are, Shadowson. "

Bishnar didn't answer.

"I am Lord Norak," the vampire said. "No one needs to die here. Join me.

" "You must be dreaming. I am human.

" Norak laughed loudly.

"And I'm probably a princess turned into a beast for disobeying her parents and living a less-than-virtuous life. You know full well you're far from human. You're in between, Son of Shadow. Join the Master Race, leave these weak mortals. You know full well that vampire blood flows in your veins. "

The warrior didn't answer.

"Want an answer?" The vampire was reading minds again. "Join and you'll receive it.

" "Tell me who, and you'll live."

The lord smiled menacingly, flashing his fangs.

"Don't you make me laugh! You won't be able to defeat me. And getting back to you, don't you sometimes crave fresh blood?"

Bish tried with all his willpower to close his mind against the vampire, whose thoughts were like slimy tentacles drilling and encircling him.

"Doesn't its sweetish scent tempt you? The metallic aftertaste, and that tickle in your palate as it flows down your throat along with your weakening heartbeats?"

"Perhaps you'd like a taste of yours?" Bishnar felt the power emanating from his opponent. "I have some on my blade. There will be more if you don't tell me where He is. "

Norak didn't take his eyes off the warrior. His gaze pierced with coldness and hatred.

"Perhaps you'll tell me why you're so stupid?" His arms rose to his sides. "Tell me before you die."

Bishnar couldn't move. He focused all his will, but his limbs felt as heavy as lead. The monster straightened, its cloak swirling as it began to rise.

"I have to look away," Bishnar thought, watching Norak transform back into a giant bat.

Webbed wings flapped, and the creature charged, jaws agape, at its petrified opponent. The black-haired man tried in vain to close his eyes.

A silver bolt hissed through the air. The vampire avoided the blow with a fantastic pirouette and turned toward Malden, who was already aiming his second crossbow. But Norak was faster than thought. He dodged the bolt hurtling toward him and struck the redbeard in the chest. Malden somersaulted through the air and slammed back against the wall. His chainmail and quiver were torn. Blood seeped from beneath them.

Bishnar prevented the vampire from renewing his attack. Unperturbed by the mesmerizing gaze, he leaped toward the monster. Norak flapped his membranous wings, avoiding the blow. He lashed out with his claws, striking the dark-haired man in the shoulder, but the latter managed to slit his membranous wing.

They both fell to the ground again. Bishnar felt his left hand stiffen with pain. He could barely hold his saber. Norak returned to his human form. Blood trickled down his right side, but he only smiled, holding his hand out. A long, single-edged sword with a straight blade and a square crossguard materialized within it. The vampire gripped the hilt firmly with both hands.

"Come on, Shadow Son," he hissed, and attacked.

Malden watched the fight through his closed eyes. The fighters' movements were so fast that he barely noticed each blow. Both opponents leaped at each other, raining blows and sparks. Although Malden had never seen his friend fight with such concentration, he knew he wouldn't last. Bish's left arm hung limp, blood from a cut on his forehead dripping into his eyes. He didn't have time to wipe it away, however, as he had to parry Norak's incredibly fast attacks.

Malden looked for his crossbow and began to load it.

Bishnar only retreated, deflecting the blows that rained down on him.

Arito ran from the ruins, attacking the creature from behind. The vampire turned, deflected the descending blade, and stabbed the guard captain. Cornell grabbed the blade burrowing into his gut and struck again.

The sword cut deeply into the vampire's chest. Bishnar leaped from behind, driving his saber into the lord's back.

Norak howled. With a single swipe, he ripped his blade from Arit's belly and swung it at the black-haired warrior. Bishnar dodged, but the vampire kicked him to the ground. The silver bolt hissed and sank into the monster's side. The animator dropped the sword and ripped the bolt free. He slowly backed away, staring in disbelief as blood gushed from his wounds. Bishnar rose from the ground, gripping his saber in his good hand. Norak began to transform, but didn't finish. The black-haired warrior struck from above, slicing diagonally across Arit's chest and correcting the cut from below with the inner blade of his saber.

The vampire fell to the ground. Despite his many wounds, his eyes, emanating hatred, stared intently at Bishnar. He staggered from exhaustion over his defeated opponent. He knew that although the wounds Norak had received in the fight would kill a dozen men, they would heal before sunrise. He himself felt his body repair itself alongside the throbbing pain. Yet he wasn't fully a vampire. And who was he?

"Lord Norak, tell me where He is."

The monster spat out frothy blood that had gathered on its lips. He shook his head.

"Nothing comes for free.

" "And what could a dying vampire want?"

Norak smiled bloodily.

"I'll tell you where you'll find Him, but first, tell me why you're hanging out with these lousy mortals? How are they better than us? Just don't spin tales about vampires drinking blood and killing innocents. Compare how many innocents starve because their last pennies went to taxes for another nobleman. "

Bishnar considered.

"You first. Where?

" "Strateborg, on the border with Ronar. You'll meet Him there. Your turn."

The black-haired man thought for a moment and began to speak. He spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words and arguments. He had to convince the vampire that he was on the right side. He had to convince, not Norak, but the vampire within him, who was increasingly trying to take control. As he suspected, he didn't see the understanding in Norak's eyes.

"And did I convince myself?" He thought for a moment and with a single slash, severed the vampire's head. Then he pulled a pouch from his pocket and poured dark powder into his hand. He sprinkled it over the severed head. He pulled out a flint and sparked a few times, setting Norak's head alight. An unnaturally bright flame shot upward. First the eyeballs burst, then the skin began to burn. The headless body lying next to him began to shrivel and wither. Bishnar stopped watching. He approached Malden, who was lying against the wall. His friend was alive, he had just lost consciousness. His strong chainmail and thick quilting protected him from more serious injuries.

Arito fared worse. He groaned in pain in a pool of blood. Bishnar leaned over him. The guard captain struggled to breathe, clutching his slashed stomach, from which intestines were spilling.

"Who are you?" he whispered. "I heard what you said. Who?"

Bishnar looked up, eyes clouded with pain.

"A friend," he replied.

But Arito couldn't hear it anymore. He was dead.

The black-haired man sheathed his sabers. He walked over to Malden and helped him to his feet.

"What about the captain?" the red-bearded man asked.

Bishnar shook his head.

"I pity him," Mal said.

They reached the entrance. Twenty guards stood there.

"You were in no hurry," Bishnar hissed.

"We had orders from the mayor," one of them explained hesitantly.

"A good man died because of your cowardice." The black-haired man walked toward the guards. He limped, and his left arm was limp, yet the others moved aside, avoiding the burning gaze.

Bishnar and Malden passed them and disappeared into the darkness.

"Did you see his teeth?" one of the guards asked as the warriors departed.

"Teeth? I saw his eyes!

" "It must have been fear.

" "Definitely.

" * * * *

The two riders left Blaken, heading south. They didn't tire their horses. They didn't need to hurry. There was a long journey ahead of them.

"Bish, what did that vampire ask you?"

The black-haired man fell into thought.

"You know, Mal, it's a long story.

" "And we have a long journey ahead of us, friend."

The rush of air felt pleasantly cool on their faces. The wheat ears in the roadside field glowed golden in the sun. Malden studied his friend's face.

"What will you do when you find him?"

Bishnar looked at the horizon. He moved his now almost-good arm slightly.

- It will depend largely on His answer.