Chapter 21

Marvik

I wake with a start, jerking upright, the back of my head pounding. I am pulled backward, wrenching my shoulder and I realize that I am bound to a stake in the ground. Pulling experimentally, I hear, rather than see, the manacles that are holding my arms behind my body. My legs are free, but the length of chain that holds me is so short that I couldn’t stand up if I tried. Looking around, I see I am in some sort of supply tent, large enough that one can safely assume that it is for a war party. It’s dark, the sun obviously having set a while ago, and there’s barely a moon to speak of outside, making it even harder to see details. I let my eyes adjust and make out some shapes. My eyes flick over shadowy crates and barrels, only to land on an open crate closest to me that is filled with chains and manacles. What the fuck?

My mind is whirling, wondering what in the Nether is going on, when two familiar cloaked figures enter the tent.

“I told you he was awake,” says one in a raspy, whispery sort of voice. “The breathing changed.”

“So you did. I need to feed so that my senses sharpen again. I used too much energy in the fight against him.”

The first one hisses, a strange sound of agreement, and they both walk closer before crouching down in front of me. A hand reaches out, grasping my hair and yanking back painfully so that I am forced to look up into the second figure’s hooded face. It’s so dark that all I make out is the shape of his chin and a hint of nose.

My captor laughs quietly and cocks his head. “Look how he struggles to see. Blind as a worm. With senses so weak, it’s no wonder that Lord Grazrath says they are meant to be our playthings. ”

I pick up the name and file it away. I don’t know that I’ll be able to get away from my captors, but I have my soldier’s training above all else and one of the first things one learns about being captured by an enemy is to listen and catalog intelligence. These vampires follow the demon of pain and misery? Or someone named after him. I suppose that makes sense, that a power-hungry vampire would take him as a namesake. I remember the old tales, about the stories of the God War and how the Barakrini were supposedly in league with the demons. Grazrath was supposed to have been the creator of the vampires, their first liege lord, the one that gave the thirst for blood. But it has been a long time since then, and I have never heard of them worshiping or following anyone named Grazrath in recent years. Could something have happened and they are falling back into their ancient, brutal ways?

“Yes,” agrees the other vampire. “The Lord of Pain and Misery is wise. He will be pleased with such a healthy offering when we return. If he were here, he would want first feeding rights to take strength from such a skilled warrior.”

My hair is yanked painfully again, my attention brought back to the vampire in front of me. “Yes, Lord Grazrath would want first feeding rights, but he’s not here right now. He’s in Evernight and I’m the one conducting this interrogation.”

Wait. What? The actual Lord Grazrath is in this plane? At the Barakrini capital? Not in the Nether? What is happening in the world that an archdemon is roaming free? And with a vampire army in the bargain? It is like the old, dire stories come to life.

With my head swirling with questions and before I can react, my head is jerked to the side and a sharp pain is in my neck. I cry out in shock. The vampire is feeding from me, I realize, the pain of his bite descending into sudden euphoria. He sucks, two greedy deep gulps, but I can’t bring myself to mind. When he pulls back, the euphoria lingers in me, like sweetweed smoke, even as a small excess of blood trickles down my neck.

I am dizzy and confused, when the vampire snarls, his voice sounding a touch deeper than it did a moment ago, “Now, human, tell me, who are you and why is a warrior of your caliber wandering into Barakrin?”

“I’m Marvik,” I say easily, the truth spilling from my lips before I can stop it. “I was searching for amethysts at the base of the mountain.”

As soon as I have said these words, somewhere on the edges of my consciousness, I am horrified. Is there some sort of effect of a vampire’s bite that makes you their thrall, unable to tell them lies or refuse to answer?

The vampire is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “Amethysts at the base of the mountain? So it is mere coincidence that you happened to be but yards from our base camp on the eve of our invasion?”

“Invasion?” I hear myself asking, my speech slurring a little, all my internal thoughts bleeding out through my mouth. “Barakrin has always been a peaceful kingdom. Why are they invading Adrik?”

The two chuckle darkly at my inebriated sounding question. “We used to have a weak leader, but our new Lord now is taking us to new heights. But we don’t need to answer your questions, human; you’ll answer ours. Why were you in the woods?”

Again, I feel the truth welling up inside me, but this time, I fight it. This truth would compromise Dura and no matter what they’ve done to me, I will not betray her like that. “I’m a hermit,” I lie, the words hard to get out. Some instinct in me screams in outrage, wanting desperately to please our captors, the one who bit me in particular. But the more I fight the instinct the weaker it gets, like an echo of a feeling that doesn’t belong to me. “I live alone in these woods,” I continue. I notice as I lie my words get clearer and so purposefully slur the last two words, not wanting the vampire to suspect that I am resisting his thrall.

The vampire holding me by the hair stares into my eyes, as if searching for whether I am telling the truth or not. “And so you are alone? No one will miss you if you don’t return or go looking for you?” he interrogates again, more forcefully.

That instinct to please comes back to forefront, but I ignore it, focusing on Dura and protecting her. “No one,” I slur out.

“It must truly have been a trick of fate, then,” the second vampire to my side says. “If he’s truly alone, then there’s no reason to worry. We need to report to the prince right away that the invasion can still take place. The Adrikians and the orcs must suspect nothing.”

“Maybe,” replies my interrogator. “Or maybe he’s lying. What would a warrior that can fight like him be doing as a hermit in the woods?”

“I deserted during the last war,” I lie, this time more easily. Whatever was affecting me is wearing off. “I couldn’t stand to lift my sword for a king like Yorian anymore.”

“See?” says the second vampire. “It’s a fluke. Our intelligence says that there are only a few soldiers at Grimblton, not a lot of trained warriors like this one. They’ll fall easily to our forces and then we’ll harvest the whole town as blood slaves and bring them back to the capital before the kingdom could possibly know what hit them. Then the second wave will be with freshly blood-filled vampires against humans and orcs. Taking the kingdom for Grazrath should be easy.”

“Silence,” hisses the vampire in front of me. “You give too much away in front of an enemy. Mind your words more closely, Orpheus.”

Orpheus scoffs. “He’s not an enemy, Caius, he’s our prisoner and there’s no escape for him. Besides, you’re being too suspicious. No human could lie to a vampire while experiencing the afterglow of a feeding.”

The afterglow . That must be that feeling that makes my lips feel so loose. Caius still doesn’t seem to be convinced by his comrade’s words, however. I call up the vestiges of that feeling and let it rest on my features, a look of confusion and a little bit of awe, a desperation to please. He keeps looking at me for a moment longer and in the darkness I can’t tell what he reads in my looks, but his grip on my hair finally eases and he stands up.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “He would have to have an iron will to break the afterglow, and I don’t see it in him. What a waste of time, capturing him. We should have just killed him and been done with it.”

“But then you wouldn’t have gotten to feed on such an untouched specimen. You’d have to feed on the communal blood slaves like everyone else.”

“Those blood bags,” snorts Caius. “Barely any living left in them anymore. It’ll be a pleasure to get fresh stock to replace them with.”

“Did you hear,” gossips Orpheus, “that those that distinguish themselves in this raid will get first choosing rights for their personal blood slave? After Grazrath replenishes his stock, of course. He’s quite . . . hard on his slaves. They say there’s barely anything left of them when he’s done.”

Caius grunts. “I hope to get my own blood slave soon. Now that I’ve finally had a taste of sentient blood, I’m tired of sharing with others. I want to get something pretty, with big tits, so that I can fuck them after I’m done with the feeding. The high of getting your cock squeezed while you’re full of that much vitality must be exquisite.”

Reluctantly, the vampires turn back to me, like I’m some chore for them to do. “What should we do with him, now?” asks Orpheus.

“Just leave him in the supply tent. We’ll move him to the slave pen tomorrow after the raid.”

Orpheus is the one who cocks his head this time. “Should we give him a blanket or something? Can’t humans freeze in temperatures like this? It’d be a waste to have him die during the night.”

There are some rustling sounds from one of the crates and then a rough-spun blanket is thrown at me. It only covers about half of me in a crooked manner. There’s no way I can fix it while bound and the two vampires don’t fix it either. Apparently done with me, the two turn and exit the tent, leaving me alone in the darkness once more.

“Will you report to the prince?” I hear Orpheus ask from the other side of the tent fabric. “I want to get in line for the slaves. Not all of us got to feed, you know.”

“Fine,” responds Caius, their voices getting further away. “But you owe me. The prince has been in a shit mood lately.”

After that I can’t hear anything else but the moan of the wind outside. It’s fucking freezing in the tent, the blanket doing little to no good. I guess I really do need to worry about surviving the night. Kicking out my legs, I try to burrow more fully under the blanket, but it’s a fool’s errand. The chain is just too short for me to do anything.

Alright, forget that plan . I should be trying to escape, anyway. With great difficulty, I get my legs under me and try pushing up with all my might to pull out the stake in the ground. The strain on my shoulder is blinding in its pain and I don’t feel any give while I pull. Either the stake is very long and stuck deep in the ground or I’ve been weakened by the vampire feeding on me.

Still, I can’t just give up. The townspeople at Grimblton need to be warned or a terrible fate will befall them. And I have to get back to Dura. That thought brings me up short. Dura, who is worried that I’ll abandon her. Does she think the worst? Or will she come after me, only to find an encampment of vampire soldiers? Either option is unacceptable. I pull with renewed vigor, ignoring the aches in my twisted arms and shoulders, and yank as if my very life were on the line.

I am just feeling like there is a little movement in the stake, a burst of hope going through my chest, when I hear an achingly familiar husky alto. “Keep quiet.”

Instantly, I stop my efforts and look around wildly. I see no one, but an invisible finger presses on my lips, as if to stop any noise I might make. Of course! Her amulet, that hides her and her scent. It would be the perfect way to walk into a camp of vampires. Still, I hate her being this close to danger.

“Dura!” I whisper. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Then I suppose you want to be the prisoner of the Barakrini? Don’t be stupid,” she hisses back. I feel her going to my back, examining my bonds. She lightly gasps and I feel a tentative finger touch my wrist. I almost groan in pain, realizing for the first time that I’ve shredded the skin on my wrists with my struggles, the manacles chafing as I pulled against them.

“Oh, Marvik,” she whispers quietly. “What did you do?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper back. “I needed to escape at all costs. This is a raiding party, looking to invade Adrik. They’re going to kill the orc guards at Grimblton, then steal away its people to be blood slaves. We can’t let that happen.”

“I know,” she says. “I heard they are going to invade tomorrow, when the night is darkest.”

Of course, they would try to use the darkness to their advantage. It’s the smart thing to do. In the night, against a few orcs and untrained humans, they would have an easy victory. We have no time to lose if we are to save the people of Grimblton. A wave of determination goes through me and I start trying to pull again.

“Stop it,” Dura hisses. “You’ll only make your wrists worse.”

I feel her pull at the stake behind me, carefully avoiding pulling on my bleeding wrists. It gives a little more, then gets stuck on something, not moving any longer.

“I have nothing to pick the locks,” she whispers. “I’m going to check around the tent and see if I can find any tools.”

I feel her creep away from my back and hear some light shuffling noises. In a moment she’s back, victory in her quiet voice as she murmurs, “I found a crowbar. Hold absolutely still.”

Behind me, the crowbar slips into the links of the manacles. Dura pushes down and twists sharply, popping the link and freeing my right hand. The movement rubs against my raw, bloody wrists and I have to struggle to stay silent. Then she gets to work on the left, soon freeing my other hand from the stake. I sag forward, my arms coming around to the front. I rub my shoulders and elbows, trying to get more feeling into them. The cuffs of the manacles are still on my wrists, but that is a problem for later.

I stand, the blanket falling off of me and I turn. Dura’s still invisible and it’s so dark that I probably wouldn’t have been able to see her anyway, but I say in the general direction that I think she is standing, “Alright. We need to go. We have to get to Grimblton before they realize I’m gone.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” comes Dura’s voice, a little to the right from where I thought she was. “Vampires have a more acute sense of smell than even orcs. If you leave this tent, they’ll be able to smell a bleeding human wandering out of their camp easily.”

Damn. She’s right. “What are we going to do, then?”

I feel Dura touch my hand and healing magic pours into me, fixing the skin on my wrists and the bite on my neck. It feels even better than normal; the pain receding from all my joints. Then Dura throws me for a loop when she says, “I’ll have to carry you out of camp.”

“What?” Surely she can’t have said what I thought she just said.

“I’ll carry you. I’ve done it before,” she whispers, matter-of-factly. “If you are on my person, you fall under the parameters of my amulet and you’ll be invisible as well, with your scent hidden. They should have no idea that you’ve left.”

My pride chafes at the thought of being hauled around like a sack of potatoes. Or even worse, like a rescued princess. But now is not the time for pride, but expediency.

“Fine,” I agree quietly, working to hide the embarrassment in my voice. “But first, do you see more blankets?”

“Yes,” she answers, a little confusion in her voice. “Why do you need those, though?”

“I’m going to build a lump on the ground that looks like a sleeping body, so that if they check during the night, at first glance, I’ll still appear to be here. We can’t have them moving early.” Though before the vampires noticed my subtle change in breathing. Hopefully, they don’t notice the absence of my breathing right away.

“I’ll do that,” Dura volunteers. “I can see better than you can in the dark.”

There are some rustling sounds and then I see a dark shape on the ground form, a blanket going down on top of it.

“Alright,” says Dura, coming to my side. “Time to go. Are you ready?”

“Almost,” I say, “I need a weapon. In case we get caught.” There’s a grunt of acknowledgement, then I hear some more rummaging and soon a sword lands at my feet. I take it, nodding my thanks, and tie the scabbard on my belt.

“Alright, ready.” I brace for her hold. Soon I find myself upside down, over her shoulder, her shoulder bones digging into the flesh of my abdominals. As I enter the enchantment, I find that I can see Dura again, my face pressed against the small of her back.

“Relax,” the orcress whispers in command. “You were easier to carry unconscious and in armor.”

With deliberate action, I force my muscles to relax, and then we are moving. I bounce a little on her shoulder as she walks. I can see nothing as we make our way out of the vampire camp and I dare not make a sound. From what I heard from my two captors earlier, it seems that vampires that have fed on a sentient’s blood have stronger senses and greater strength. It would be catastrophic to make a noise and be found out by the Barakrini, despite Dura’s spell.

It seems like forever, but finally Dura puts me down. I stand up and when I turn around, I see Dura, the invisibility spell fading.

“Hopefully there are no scouts out this far,” says Dura, tapping at the amulet on her chest. “My enchantment is out of charge. It took longer than I would’ve liked finding you in that camp.”

“I’m just glad you did,” I say and grab her into my arms, taking her lips with mine. For a moment back there, I really thought that I’d never see my huntress again.

Dura pulls back with a sardonic twist of lip. “So, you aren’t disappointed that I went looking for you?”

I shake my head. “I’m grateful for my rescue and know that you are a capable orcress, but I didn’t want you in that camp. Something’s gone wrong in Barakrin. The demon Grazrath is on the throne and the vampires there are feeding on sentients. Intelligence said before they had a pacifist king who encouraged feeding on the blood of animals, not people, but that’s all changed.”

The orcress’ eyes go wide. “The actual archdemon has broken out of the Nether? I heard them speak of a Grazrath, but thought it must be someone else. They said that he killed their king.”

That explains why the sudden change. If Grazrath killed their king, even the most peaceful of vampires are probably too afraid to rise up against the demon and the rest . . . well apparently they like the taste of sentient blood they were previously denied.

“We need to move quickly. We have to get to Grimblton and warn the people there. Or at least I need to. I wouldn’t want you to be recognized . . .”

Dura nods. “We can worry about that later. For now, we should get out of the woods. It’s not safe to stay in here if a raiding party is going to come through.” With those words, she takes off at a jog and I scramble to follow her.

I don’t know what welcome will wait for me in Grimblton, coming back from the dead, but it doesn’t matter. If I can’t warn them and convince them to listen to me, they are in for a fate worse than death.