Alexandru yawned and stretched, making his way over to the campfire. It wasn’t much, but there was a roast suckling pig over the blaze, courtesy of the foraging team. He grabbed a plate and carved a section from its’ haunch, eyeing the bread near the quartermaster’s tent.

“Hey there! Finally done with guard duty, huh?” Svante said, raising a wineskin.

“Yeah. At last. Waste of time if you ask me, we’ve got ‘em on the run. A full retreat, all we’re doing is chasing ‘em up and down the river. It’s pathetic if you ask me. Could be dangerous too, they could be leading us into a trap.” Alexandru said, sawing off a hunk and grabbing his own wineskin, setting down next to Svante.

“Ahh, you worry too much. We routed them nearly two weeks ago, they’re chickens with their heads cut off. If they had a trap set up, they’d have sprung it by now.” he dismissed.

“If you say so. Commander’s a fool if he don’t consider it, though. Just hope it doesn’t take too long. Can’t wait until we’re through, my wife’s going to get lonely.” Alexandru said.

“Eh, if she is I can make her mine. That pretty little thing’s wasted on a dog like you!” Svante laughed, slapping his knee to the mirth of the other men.

“I may be the dog, but you’ve got the battleaxe at home. I’d offer to keep her company, but I’ve got my big head to think with!” Alexandru countered to the cheers and guffaws of the others. Svante glared playfully at him.

“I say, sir! You do my house an insult!”

“And what can a louse do about an insult to his house, which isn’t fit for even a mouse?” Alexandru said.

“A duel!”

“A duel?” Alexandru snorted dismissively. “Wake up, man. I’m a better fighter than you by leagues. Or do you need me to prove it? Again?”

“Of course! I must defend my house, upon my honor. You do the same for your words, oaf.” Svante said with a grin, holding up his fork. Alexandru rolled his eyes and brandished his own.

“Challenge accepted, I suppose.”

“On guard!” Svante twirled his fork and jabbed at him, but was easily deflected by Alexandru’s utensil. Undeterred, the big man dashed his greasy fork at him again and again, batted aside each time.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Alexandru said, chewing a hunk of bread.

“No! The villain won’t win! Have at you!” He made a final push, and Alexandru flicked his fork. The tines clashed, sticking together.

“Hah! You let down your guard!” Svante said and pushed, his greater strength and mass overpowering Alexandru’s.

“A pity your skill isn’t as strong as you are.” Alexandru twisted the grip, using his wrist to flip Svante’s arm upside-down, unable to let go of the fork. Alexandru popped his arm over to slide the big man around. Unable to stop, Svante was spun, and found a fork pointed at his throat.

“Yield?” Alexandru said pleasantly.

“Blast it. 78 to you, 43 to me.”

“Not good enough man, not good enough. You need skill, not just brute force.” Alexandru said. The big man guffawed and slapped his back, jolting him.

“Hah! Just what a beanpole like you’d say.” Svante said, lifting his wine.

“And to the victor go the spoils, my dude.” Alexandru snatched the wineskin before he could bring it to his lips, and downed the rest of it in one pull. He tossed the empty skin to the bigger man.

“Yeesh. You can be a sore winner, can’t you?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Alexandru said primly, daintily wiping his mouth. Svante sighed and leaned back, hands behind his head.

“But you got it right though. All we’re doing is chasing a bunch of whipped dogs around the river. I don’t get it, they know they can’t win. Why not surrender? They’ll lose less men that way, all they gotta do is pull out.” he said, watching the evening stars begin to shine in the sky. The nights were coming earlier, and getting colder. Winter wasn’t too far away. If this kept up, it would mean bad things for the harvest.

“I hear they’re panicked, trying to figure out what to do now.” another soldier said.

“I heard that they’re just buying time until some mercenary band joins up with them.” a fresh recruit said. Alexandru perked up.

“What company?”

“Dunno, but the rumor is they got the Black Emerald band to fight for ‘em. Less than a hundred strong, that won’t help ‘em in the slightest, not with our numbers.” he said. A hush fell around the fire.

“The…Black Emerald company?” a voice said, sounding extremely concerned. The man looked around.

“Guys, I heard it’s only a few dozen men. Seriously, it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.” he said, trying to laugh it off. Old Jan hobbled forward, grabbing the recruit and staring dead in his eye.

“Are you sure it was the Black Emerald company?” he said gravely. The recruit shivered.

“Y-Yeah, think so. That caravan seemed pretty sure.” he gulped. Old Jan stroked his grey beard, a finger absently touching the scar on his jaw.

“If you didn’t know, you’ll find out. The Black Emeralds are the worst mercs in all of Christendom. They’ll do any job for a price, and fight to the last. Five years ago, they’re the ones that broke the Gaul siege.” The recruit gasped.

“Really?”

“Yep. Been following news about them for twenty, thirty years now. The men of the band come’n go, but even if they fight hard they ain’t the ones t’fear. There’s one among ‘em, tall and dark, said to be worse than Old Scratch himself. He’s said t’be a fiend with a blade, and goes into battle unarmored, emerges with nary a nick on him. Archers are worse’n useless, he grabs ‘em and sends ‘em back with twice the force. Battalions of men’ve broken themselves on him trying to kill him, all have failed. You listen good now boy, take Old Jan’s words to heart; stay away from that bastard. He’s immortal, and has no mercy in his heart for anything ‘cept bloodshed.”

The recruit shivered, instinctively inching closer to the fire. Wild dogs howled in the distance as the sun went down over the horizon.

“W-Who is he?” the recruit asked nervously.

“No one knows for sure. Some say he was belched forth by the devil himself. Others say he walked out of the sea, from the deep dark depths no one knows. Some tell he was cursed by God for spilling too much blood, walking the Earth eternally, the gates of Heaven forever closed to him. There’s only one name they call him, and it’s the color of his glittering, shining eye: Red Jack.” Old Jan finished, giving a spin on his bad leg, making the recruit shriek.

“Come now. How can his eyes actually glow? Just an exaggeration for a strong warrior’s legend.” Svante said, suppressing a shiver himself. Old Jan rounded on him.

“Ah, lad? Think just ‘cause you’re big you can stand up to a monster like that?” he demanded.

“No, all I meant was-” Jan wasn’t having any backpedaling. He marched up to him quick as his leg would allow.

“Y’know I’m the hardest man this army’s got. Less’n you’d like another demonstration?” he said with a grin, and Svante quickly shook his head. The grin grew wider. “Didn’t think so, sonny. When I was a young buck I was full of piss and vinegar, and no man could take me down. I was the pride of the regiment. I was untouchable. Then I found myself on the opposite side of the Black Emeralds. I saw red that day, red in the sky, red on the ground, my red spilling, the reason why they call him Red Jack. How d’ya think I got my scar and my limp?” They all looked at him, the toughest, meanest bastard out of all of them. His muscles here hard, his skin leathery. He’d personally showed them how to fight like lions. His leg was gnarled below his knee, the scar cutting a swath through his beard. It was impossible to imagine him losing, but everyone could see the way he gripped his sword, a tremor in his wrinkled hands.

“W-What’re we supposed to do if they are with them, then?” Svante asked. Old Jan stood straight as his back could.

“We force everyone else away, the rest of them can be beat. The Black Emeralds lose, not him. But you see a man covered in blood, laughing at the carnage with eyes like a devil, you steer well clear of him. No one can beat him, not even you.” he said to Alexandru, who shrugged.

“If he’s as nasty as you say, wouldn’t want to try. Figure the best bet is to run. You’ve proven more than once I’m not invincible.” he said. Old Jan nodded.

“See that you do. You’ve got skill, real talent. Be a shame to lose you.”

“Don’t plan on being a soldier forever though. Got word last week, farm’s doing well. I’ll be going home after this’s over. Make a living planting the dirt.” he said gracefully.

“Planting something, that’s for sure.” Svante cracked, and the tense air dissolved into laughter. At least until they heard the warning bell ring.

“Incoming! Incoming! We’re under attack!”

Hooves thundered as arrows began to rain down on the camp, a mad scramble for cover and weapons, trying to mobilize. From the trees they came, in blackened armor and darkened weapons, prepared for surprise. Alexandru gasped as he saw a black-and-green banner unfurl, a gold design of a jewel square in the center. He grabbed his sword and fumbled for his shield, Svante raising his spear.

“Here they come!” They began to sweep through the camp like a reaper’s scythe, impaling men on lances and cutting down with swords, trampling those who fell. The sentry’s warning hadn’t been quick enough, the camp couldn’t organize fast enough to mount a counterassault. Those numbers! And so swift! The cavalry charged through, pushing their horses recklessly forward. The infantry was almost as fast, running like the devil himself was riding behind. Each arrow, spear, and blade struck true; head-on, their superior numbers would allow them an even fight. Caught unaware, it was a slaughter.

“Come lads!” Old Jan shouted, drawing his blade and limping off quicker than many could run, sweating in desperation. Fire spread through the camp, drums pounding soldiers to battle. Alexandru strapped his shield on, doubling with Svante to attack the invaders.

“There’s too many of them!” he cried, cutting into a rider’s ribs, watching him slip and fall into his own gore.

“We need our pikemen, where’s the commander!? Grah!” Svante speared right through a cavalryman, dropping his lance in shock. With a heave, he tossed him off his horse, splattering him on the ground. “We need to gather and rally, or we’ll be wiped out at this rate!” They had to retreat as three more horsemen rode at them.

The fire seemed to be cover enough to pull free, at least from the horses. Alexandru shook his head. It was a total rout. This would extend the war for three months, at least. He saw in the distance the commander calling a retreat. The Black Emerald mercs didn’t seem to care though, doing nothing but running people down with single-minded intensity. Did they mean to kill them to the last?

He and Svante stumbled through the smoke and debris, the fires growing brighter and the sounds of steel and screams ever louder. Alexandru heard a telltale twang, automatically raising his shield to deflect an arrow coming at them. Svante’s spear flashed, and the archer was no more. He forced Alexandru aside, away from the berserking cavalryman swinging wildly. The camp was in chaos.

“We have to get out of here! To the forest, we can hide and regroup there!” Alexandru said.

“Good idea!” Together, they forced their way through the battle, dodging arrows and blades and clubs. An enemy came screaming at Svante, but Alexandru lopped off his leg at the knee, sending him sprawling and leaving him to bleed out.

“No! Need more! He needs more! Don’t let him take me!” the unfortunate man cried at their retreating backs.

“Poor sod, he’s lost his marbles. What’s with these guys? They’re not fighting to win, they’re fighting to kill.” Svante said, grimacing as he rubbed his thigh. An errant kick from a Black Emerald left it smarting. Alex offered him his shoulder.

“Dunno. But the sooner we put them behind us, the better.” They crept across the battlefield, past the quartermaster’s tent, now ablaze. Soon they’d reach the forest, and be free.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” A flying, bloody chunk of…person smacked on Svante’s face. He wiped it off in horror and disbelief, staring ahead where Alexandru gaped.

Most of the Emerald cavalry and infantry were among the army on the battlefield/camp, taking no prisoners. The entire band was the vanguard, leaving a single soldier for the rear. Alexandru and Svante watched eight men surround and descend upon him, sweat-covered bald head gleaming in the firelight, his beard bushy and wild.

“Die you bastard!” GSHUNK! The man paid them no heed, raising his sword despite the spears stuck in his back and side. He grinned maniacally and brought it down, cleaving through the victim in front of him straight through sword, armor, flesh, and bone. His weapon snapped form the force, but he merely grabbed another, tearing the man who held its hands off, tearing the man’s hands off, then chomping-oh god.

Svante’s own hand flew to his mouth, dry heaving as the man chewed and sucked the fluids from the stub like a Capri Sun. The soldiers surrounding him flinched, backing away slowly.

“No. There is no escape.” the man growled in a voice like rotten sewage. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the man moved, flickering as his sword chopped heads, spraying blood from seven fountains, opening his mouth and reveling in the taste. He splashed in it like a child, but cast a baleful eye on Svante and Alexandru. They stared back in silent horror, battle moving around them. “More, even more!” Red Jack cried, for there could be no mistaking him.

As he walked nonchalantly over to them, they could see his wounds heal and close before their eyes, restoring his vitality completely. He smiled as they backpedaled, fumbling over themselves trying to get away.

“Run run run, little pigs. It makes the blood taste hotter.”

“Waaah! Away, devil!” Svante threw his spear, spiraling into Red Jack’s blackened heart. The fiend merely caught it, snapping the shaft like a twig in his grip. He leered at them, ready to move.

“Die, pigs.” Red Jack’s eyes widened as a scimitar came down, slashing Svante across the back by a cavalryman.

“Aiieeeeeaaaagh!”

“No!” Alexandru cried. He tried to lower the big man gently to the ground as Red Jack moved and hefted the rider from his horse.

“Those prey were mine!” he hissed coldly, the horseman involuntarily wetting himself.

“N-No Red Jack, I, I’m sorry! Please forgive-” The fiend jerked his head to the side, biting down on his throat and imbibing deeply. Within minutes, he was completely drained, Red Jack tossing the pale corpse aside like a crumpled can of soda. He turned back to see Alexandru desperately dragging Svante along, unsure if he should try to haul him away or to his feet. He grinned and stalked forward, a tiger among the flames, eyes brighter than any reflection in a feline eye.

“R-Run, Alexandru!” Svante cried desperately. With his injury he wouldn’t make it.

“But-I can’t leave you!” Alexandru said, trying to drag and run at the same time. They’d barely gotten twenty paces when an iron hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“How sweet.” Red Jack grinned. “You won’t have to be separated, battle-brothers. Death will unite you-in my belly.” Alexandru froze, staring at his murderer, the blood-soaked beard, the fearsome fangs over his lips, the eyes as deadly as the devil himself, just like Old Jan had said. There could be no running from this demon; they were mice before a cobra, a small snack before a feast.

Svante groped around desperately. This monster would kill them both. Please, God, let at least Alexandru escape with his life! Something, anythi-his fist closed around a board.

“Rrrrrrrraaah!” Summoning the last of his strength, Svante swung the flaming pole into Red Jack’s face, splintering and sending sparks and embers everywhere. With a heave, he pushed Alexandru back, trying to get him away. He wasn’t going to be running, much as he wanted to, so at least his friend should live. If he ran, perhaps Red Jack wouldn’t catch up in time. Speaking of whom.

“You. Wretch.” He’d recovered after clawing at his face. They saw the wounds healing to nothing. His blazing red eyes glanced at the gnat lying on the ground before him. Quicker than either Alexandru or poor Svante could follow, his boot was raised and came down like a shotgun. Svante’s head was smashed in half.

Alexandru stared in shock.

He didn’t see Red Jack snort and unhook a wicked-looking knife form his belt. He didn’t hear the commander calling a retreat, didn’t see the Black Emeralds give chase to his comrades. He didn’t see Old Jan clomping up to him, shake his shoulder to rouse him. Didn’t see Old Jan’s eyes grow large with terror as he saw Red Jack come up, a veritable god of the battlefield, immortal, cruel, his only domains blood and slaughter.

“Ah lad, a fine mess we’re in. Run if you can, I owe this damned demon payback.” he didn’t hear Old Jan say, drawing his sword and limping ahead determinedly.

All he could see was his friend Svante. He could see the day they met, hot and bright, in his fifteenth summer. They’d been after the same apple from a tree. They’d come to blows. He could still hear Svante’s laugh when he won, climbing the tree only to find it’d been taken by worms. Their first battle, standing by the fire awkwardly, trying to process the lives they took, how they avoided being killed themselves. Training, fighting, hunting; he could remember Svante’s wedding as clear as his own, the birth of his daughter as vivid as his own sons’. Laughing and joking perhaps they’d be brothers-in-law someday, if they wed the children together. He saw them riding into battle, time after time, protecting and watching out for one another. Even though Alexandru was the more skilled fighter, they’d given up keeping count of how many times the life of one had been saved by the other. There had been far too many.

He could see Svante lying there on the ground, head splattered.

“Come and get me, bastard! You took my leg and gave me these scars, I’ll return them triplefold!” Old Jan growled, raising his guard. Win? Against this monster? Hah. But maybe he could prove his forefathers proud. “Haaah!” He leapt at the fiend, sword gleaming.

“Out of my way, old man. Your blood is weak and stale.” Red Jack seized him by the throat mid-jump, stabbed through his gut, and hurled him out of the way like trash. “But the blood of fresh young warriors? Tinged with fear, and hot with rage? Ahahahahahahah, it tastes the best. Richer and bolder than any other time.” He picked Alexandru up by his shoulder with one hand, licking his crimson lips, raising his knife to slash open the blue vein his eyes were glued to, and greedily drink the divine nectar that came forth. Alexandru was quiet, staring at Red Jack with glazed eyes. The knife swung, and-

CRACK!

Red Jack reeled back, arms spinning to keep balance, his chin on fire. He rubbed it, pain vanishing. Alexandru had pommeled him like an uppercut, a fierce strike that would have ended the fight there, for a lesser being. He grinned as Alexandru unsheathed his blade, face down, his hair covering his face, but not his tears.

“Ahh, some fight left in you after all. Good! Your blood will taste all the sweeter.”

“Come, then. Win or lose, you’ll taste only steel. I am the strongest fighter in the army. Prepare to die.” Alexandru snorted, shaking his head, clearing away everything but the opponent. There was no thinking now, only fighting.

Red Jack snarled and crawled easily on all fours, faster than the eye could follow like a centipede. He leapt to tear Alexandru’s throat out, but was suddenly thrown back, pinned to a flaming log pile by the sword through his shoulder.

“Ack! So quick! How did you-!?” he screeched.

“It’s a mistake to follow movement with your eyes. Now burn.” Alexandru said, the flames reflected in his eyes as he grabbed the fiend’s head, forcing it into the fiery wood next to him. He screamed and thrashed, catching Alexandru in the hip and sending him flying through the air. Red Jack stood up, ripping the sword through his flesh, hissing. The damage form the exchange was healing already, but it was making him hungry.

Alexandru, for his part, groaned and took stock in the rubble of the tent he’d landed in. It felt like he got kicked by an ox. Tender, very tender, and it felt like fire; he could feel it swelling already. But nothing seemed to be broken, and with the thrill of battle pounding in his veins the pain was dulled. He could still move. As he got up he reached around the tent for a weapon, coming upon a larger sword than he was used to.

“Oh well. Better than nothing.” he muttered, using it as a stick to push himself upright. The sounds of the battle had faded, the retreat successful and luring away most of the other Black Emeralds. Stragglers wandered, but they were giving Red Jack a wide berth, like normal. He licked his parched lips. Perfect. No one to interfere. He limped out of the tent determinedly.

“Ah hah. Aren’t you a brave one, you maggot.” Red Jack said, marching up with Alexandru’s own sword in his grimy hands, sneering. Another insult. Alexandru raised his blade. "Not so chatty now, are you? That’s fine. I’ll take what I’m owed!” He charged forward like an animal again, sword trailing behind him. Alexandru slashed, but the fiend used his superior reflexes to flip out of the way. Alex turned his head, but red Jack was grinning beside him. “Ha ha!” He thrust.

Every instinct Alexandru had honed over the last twenty years screamed to duck. He obeyed, and the sword whiffed above him, snipping stray hairs. Red Jack raised his boot to stomp his skull like Svante, but Alexandru had a flash of insight; what was keeping him balanced?

He threw himself forward, into Red Jack’s thigh, knocking him down. Scrambling to his knees, Alexandru quickly brought his sword up and down on the monster’s neck. Die!

“Hrk!” Alexandru stared at him, having caught the sharp blade between his jaw and collarbone.

“W-What are you?”

“Your demise, maggot!” Red Jack slammed his knee in Alexandru’s side, sending him flying again, this time with the crunch of snapping ribs. Alexandru cried out and rolled to his feet, sword raised, panting. His arms felt like rubber, his body felt like one big, heavy bruise. He blinked, not seeing Red Jack anywhere. His breath would not catch, his vision was blurred.

Alexandru had trained countless hours with his sword, running drill after drill after drill, everything the sergeant and Old Jan had taught him. He didn’t come from a background or area that allowed him to study it while a child, so he felt he had to train harder to be worthwhile. While the other soldiers were relaxing, he trained. While the enemy was far, he trained. Even when he was courting he maintained a training schedule. As a result, his skills and fighting sense were much more highly developed. And it was that which saved him now, hearing the faint, familiar, all too quick whistle of a blade through the air. Before his mind could even process it, his body reacted, moving his sword to his left side to intercept his enemy’s blade. They met with a resounding clash, Red Jack pulling back like a bandsaw to cut open Alexandru’s side. Shallow, but every little thing counted. He was on a timer now.

“Hmmm, ahhhh. Oh, very good, very good indeed. Your blood smells wonderful. I shall drink it to the last. A toast to you, warrior!” Red Jack cackled, sniffing the air. It seemed to ignite both a frenzy and a focus, an animalistic intensity that Alexandru knew spelled his end. He adjusted his grip on his sword.

Red Jack’s attack was relentless, coming over and over again, faster than he could see and dancing out of the way too fast for Alexandru’s pathetic swings. It was all he could do to try and block the fiend’s vicious blade, let alone parry. And each time he angled and swept his sword back, ripping open another wound. Alexandru’s body ached and his head swam, getting torn to pieces bit by bit on his feet. He wanted nothing more than to lay down quietly and not get up. Red Jack was just toying with him now, using his superior speed to nick and slice open shallow cuts all over his body.

“Ha hah! You’re indeed strong, maggot! It’s hard to get a clean hit on you. That’s what makes your blood so worthy! I’ll savor your fine taste when I open you up and drink your hearts’ blood! Now meet your end with honor, like that other maggot over there!” Red Jack howled and charged, every muscle taught and strong, far beyond human power. He smiled viciously as he swung his sword, so fast and so hard it would shatter Alexandru’s and take his head off regardless if he blocked or not.

He didn’t see Alexandru’s face harden, a fire in his eye as he remembered Svante. Unable to fight against his weariness and gravity, he used it, letting his body sag down into a strike, not even registering the deadly swipe where his head’d been. All he knew was, he was going to take his sword and-

“GAAAAAAH!”

-shove it through Red Jack’s guts. The fiend blinked, his own momentum helping to shove it through his kidney. Fire blossomed through his body as he growled, his regeneration being taxed. He grabbed the blade and raised his other arm, intending to put this maggot down once and for all. He didn’t notice Alexandru’s breath come in quick, even pumps, not until it was too late.

“RrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

With a mighty heave, Alexandru called upon every, every, last ounce of strength his body possessed, the same desperate adrenaline-fueled power that let mothers lift cars off of their children, breaking his body’s limits and not caring. He wasn’t walking away from this regardless.

“Waaaahh-!” The blade ripped through the fiend’s body like the wrath of God, cutting supernatural muscles, tendons, organs, and even bones alike. Alexandru spun, throwing the sword up over his shoulder, tearing the monster behind him literally in half. Both Red Jack’s heart and brain were sliced in two, the wretched soul finally banished from the world in a hot spray of blood. The rotten corpse fell on the collapsing Alexandru, fading in and out of consciousness.

“My god, lad.” he heard between the black. Focusing on that, he hefted off the bisected corpse, crawling to unsteady feet. He shook his head and stumbled over to Old Jan, covered in blood and throbbing with pain.

“Ah. I-gghck, I never thought I’d see the day.” Old Jan said, smiling through his pain.

“You’re…you’re hurt.” Alexandru said numbly. This, this was inconceivable. Losing-losing Svante, and Old Jan, all at once? His world was falling out from underneath him. He fell to his knees, reaching out an arm to see the injury. Old Jan grabbed his hand, wincing.

“Ah lad, no. I’ve seen it, I seen wounds similar. I can feel it, I’m not gonna make it.”

“No, you have to, you have-” Alexandru protested weakly, but Old Jan shook his head.

“No, lad. This’s the end, went in too deep. Heh, surprised the monster let me live this long.” The fires were dying out, a chill wind blowing through, making them shiver. The sky was clear now, but it would rain soon. Yes, very soon. “I remember when you were just a twig, knobby knees and all elbows. You toughened up right quick enough, and were the finest fighter I ever had the pleasure of serving with. You killed the monster, once and for all. I never thought it possible. You did good, lad.” His eyes were closing now, his strength draining. Far, far beyond what a battle usually did. He was growing cold, but it felt good, having that burning stab wound ice over. “L-Listen lad. The bastard, h-he killed me. K-Killed you too, we’re just t-too stubborn to k-know it.” Old Jan smiled crookedly as Alexandru coughed out a laugh. B-But you h-have to…hurry. Y-You can s-still move for…now. I-If you get help, it…it might not be…too late for you. Live, Alexandru. Live, and…” Old Jan slumped over, the light leaving his eyes.

Alexandru closed them, feeling him go cold and still. He struggled once again to his feet, using his still–wet sword as a crutch, looking in the direction the Black Emeralds chased his division. There was moaning from those who were left on the field, but the fires were dying out and the sun was coming. Crows circled in the air, some dropping in to feast. He hobbled forward, covered in blood, bleeding himself. He had to keep moving. He had to. If he stopped, he couldn’t get up again. His entire being felt drained, dry, and broken. Had to keep moving, soldier. Keep moving.

His boot came down on a rock, shifting as he put weight on it. He tumbled to the ground, gasping. He hadn’t felt himself hit anything, though he knew he did. He lay there, barely ten feet from his greatest triumph, face down in the dirt while he bled out. As his vision swam and his thoughts grew dark, he could only picture those closest to him. Old Jan. Mother, father. The thief, he would never forget him. Svante. Alexi. Katya. No, he couldn’t…die…here…

The life left as the clouds gathered, turning the sky dark. Thunder rumbled, promising a downpour. Alexandru would not feel the rain again though, but he did feel the wetness of the blood as he faded. The blood running across him, his wounds, leading in a trail back to the mangled corpse of Red Jack.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“…so you see, I vas never actually bitten, per say. It vas qvite accidental. But he’d opened up so many vounds on me, including my veins, that vhen I ripped him apart enough of his blood seeped into my body to turn me. That’s how vampirism is spread, through injecting vampire blood into a human. It’s actually ironic. Oh vell, looking back on it I’m sort of grateful, othervise I’d be dead in a shallow grave on that field.” Alex said, hauling his party members up as he climbed. Lina and Jamie stared at him open-mouthed.

“Wow. That’s kinda tragic.” Lina said. Alex shrugged.

“Eh, I voke up three days later vhen the sun vent down. There vas a lot of confusion, let me tell you, least of all form me. It vas all, ‘begone, foul specter of undeath!’ ‘Get thee behind me, Satan!’ ‘I never vant to see you again, you’re no husband of mine.’ Very off-putting.” he said lightly, face completely neutral and controlled. “Though, as you might imagine, it vas a very painful time. I’d rather not go into detail, if that’s alright vith you.”

“S-Sure.” Jamie said gormlessly.

“Anyvay, I vandered for avhile, doing odd jobs here or there, mostly joining other companies as a mercenary. Vithin the first year I found Nicholas, a Gypsey vith a similar condition. He explained vhat I vas and how to survive. He pointed me to the Council of Blood, and they vere also very helpful.”

“Did they give a brochure? ‘So Now You’re a Bloodsucker?’” Lina muttered sarcastically.

“No, but that vould have been helpful. I think they do something similar for new vampires now, a presentation or seminar or something. I know there is a PowerPoint.” he said, stroking his chin. Lina and Jamie both glanced at each other, flabbergasted.

They climbed, and climbed, and torturously climbed, but at long last they reached the window on the eightieth floor. Alex and Lina heaved with desperate determination, hauling the Magus and unconscious Priest onto the thick windowsill, whereupon they collapsed, panting.

“God, if I never have to do that again…” Lina groaned.

“Ve made it through. Through focus and grit, ve made it. Oy.” Alex’s head thumped on the stone, sprawling out as much as he could. Everything under his skin felt raw and sore, but it didn’t, because…guh, screw it. He was too tired to focus. “At last.”

“Uh, guys…?” Jamie said nervously. They raised their weary heads to peer through the stained glass.

The floor wasn’t, as they expected, a floor. It looked like a portion of the mountain, but wide and flat, snow-covered and dark, a raging blizzard inside. Gigantic white wolves and wargs stalked through the tundra, barely visible save for their demonic red eyes. Off, far, far in the distance, glittered a beautiful crystalline ice fortress, sparkling in the snow. As one they turned their heads, a rocky outcropping along the wall inside, marked by an entrance. They would still have to march through the level to reach the boss of the floor.

“Aarrg!” Alex moaned.

“Nooo!” Lina said, tears of frustration in her eyes.

“Oh-oh man.” Jamie said hollowly. As one, their heads rolled back and the victorious Vampires let their feelings be known to the heavens.

“*BLEEP!*