Attempted Vampirism

by L. G. Estrella

  “Do you want me to use [Scry] to find them?” Jonathan asked.

  “Nah. Don’t waste your magic.” Eric was completely in his element now. Beneath the amusement that filled his voice was an undercurrent of excitement. “I can sense them easily enough. They’re human, and I’ve yet to meet someone who can completely evade my senses out in the wild like this at such close range. They feel like the usual bandit scum. We can handle them.”

  “Let us deal with these miscreants, sir,” Miles said. “Remain in the crate. The sun is still high in the sky, so it would be unwise for you to try to join us.”

  “How many of them are there?” Jonathan asked. He couldn’t stop himself from trembling slightly. In the past, if he’d known bandits were out and about, he’d always done his best to leave the area. He wouldn’t be able to today.

  “A couple of dozen, maybe more,” Eric drawled. “They seem pretty disorganised, and they’re not doing a good job of hiding themselves. We should be able to handle them easily although it could get tricky if they’re only scouts for someone more powerful and skilled. I have a hard time believing this many bandits could operate out here without at least some vampire support or approval.”

  * * *

  It had been a long, long time since Miles had last struck someone with the intent to cause serious injury. On a handful of occasions, his master had asked him to see unruly or unwelcome guests from the castle, but stern glares and polite but clipped speech had been enough to deal with them. His master might have been young and not much of a warrior, but he was still a vampire noble. An unsanctioned attack against him – especially by someone who wasn’t a noble as well – would have been met with extreme force by other nobles. There were rules, after all, and someone who went after nobles without care for the rules was a danger to everyone else.

  He didn’t have to wait long for the first bandits to burst onto the scene, screaming and yelling. Miles’s lips curled in distaste. Even his master, inexperienced in combat as he was, would never have made such a foolish mistake. Surprise was a powerful advantage, and throwing it away for a brief thrill was the height of stupidity. Still, he was not about to complain. If his enemies wanted to make themselves easier to deal with, he would gladly take advantage of their mistakes. Of course, banditry was, by and large, an exercise in stupidity. It invariably ended in execution or imprisonment, and the gains it brought were fleeting at best. Even on the rare occasions when a noble made use of bandits, they were simply a means to an end and likely to be eliminated once they were no longer required.

  As the first bandit charged toward him, Miles simply stepped to one side and stuck out his foot. The other man tripped spectacularly and promptly gutted himself on his own sword. It was a messy, pathetic death, and he didn’t feel so much as a shred of sympathy for him. Honestly, that was what he got for not handling his sword properly, and who knew how many innocent travellers he’d waylaid during his career as a bandit? The next bandit approached at a more measured pace, and Miles readied himself. This man seemed to have a decent head on his shoulders although lunging into a full-blooded strike was a recipe for trouble. Miles ducked under the blow and lashed out with speed far greater than any man his age should possess.

  [Quicken].

  [Iron Fist].

  These were two of the most basic Words of enhancement he could use. He’d mastered them in the long ago days of his youth. There were other, stronger, Words at his command, but he had no need for them against opponents like these bandits. His gloved fist caught the bandit square in the chest, and he might as well have been swinging a mace with both hands, given the impact his blow had.

  His attack pulverised the bandit’s chest and tossed him back like a big sack of broken, bloody potatoes. To Miles’s dismay, the scent of blood and death was still all too familiar. He’d hoped to have forgotten it by now, but it was more like meeting an old friend. The other bandits recoiled, and Miles flexed his fingers. His form had been slightly off, and he’d gotten blood on his glove. Thankfully, as the butler of a vampire, he was well versed in removing blood from clothing. Still, he’d have to resume his training in earnest. In his prime, he’d never have gotten his hands dirty over such a simple strike.

  “Well?” Miles asked. “Are you all afraid of one old man?”

  The taunt restored their courage – or roused their ire – and they closed in again. Miles found his mind wandering back to the past. It was a bad habit, but perhaps he’d gotten sentimental in his old age. He’d received countless offers over the years after others had seen his skills as a butler, but he’d never accepted. His master had even asked him about it since some of those offers had featured truly generous remuneration. Miles had replied that he was happy where he was – as well he should be. Others might have forgotten, but he had never forgotten the night he met his master.

  He’d been a young man then, and his arrogance, pride, and search for vengeance had left him with little more than the tattered clothes on his back and a body on the verge of death. He had stumbled to the castle without a single coin to his name, and he’d been rough around the edges too, used to a life of fighting and struggle. He’d been little more than a vagabond, yet his master had looked at him and instead of seeing a stray to be driven off or put down, he’d seen something else, something better. He’d offered Miles a place and instructed his more experienced servants to teach him. Jonathan had never asked him why he’d arrived in such horrible condition. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Still, it was enough to earn Miles’s loyalty. Indeed, if Miles had a flaw, it would be excessive loyalty. After all, it had been loyalty that had almost gotten him killed and led him to his master’s doorstep.

  Miles had been called many things in his life – thief, bastard, murderer, and fool – but he was no traitor. His master had shown him kindness and care, so Miles had sworn never to betray him. How could he repay such treatment with treachery and still call himself a man? The shame would have been unbearable. He had not been able to save his first master, but he would not desert Jonathan or allow him to be harmed if he could prevent it. To die in Jonathan’s service would be a worthy death although he had no doubt that his master wanted him to live. Regardless of what anyone said, he would always maintain that Jonathan was a great man, worthy of his loyalty and respect.

  Miles blocked a sword with the back of his hand – a mere blade could not harm him unless there were Words, magic, or far greater skill behind it – and snapped the blade in two before he kicked his opponent hard enough to shatter his skull. A swift chop dropped another bandit, and he twisted away from a spear and crushed the throat of its wielder with a precise strike, all in the same motion.

  “Damn, old man, you’ve got some moves.” Eric grinned. The werewolf had impressed Miles. His spear was like a steel snake, striking with incredible speed, force, and precision. It was rare to see a werewolf so skilled with a weapon since most preferred to fight using their admittedly devastating werewolf forms. However, Eric had mentioned he was a traveller. Depending on where he was, it might not be advisable to transform into his lupine form.

  Miles hummed in agreement and used his clean hand to remove his tie, so he could tuck it into his pocket. It wouldn’t do for it to get damaged, and as unskilled as these bandits were, it was better not to give one of them something to grab at. “We should stay near the wagon. If one of the bandits gets on it –”

  Miles turned and swiped another bandit aside with a backhand to the face. Honestly, how foolish were these bandits? They had barely any magical or martial ability, yet they had still chosen to attack. Surely, there had to be one amongst them who could have noticed the discrepancy in power.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the bandits climb onto the wagon, which wouldn’t normally have been a problem. He had been the one driving the wagon prior to the attack, but he was no longer right next to it. Instead, Aria had positioned herself beside the wagon. However, the flow of battle had conspired to move her away from it. To
make matters worse, the bandit immediately began to whip the horses into frenzy.

  “Aria!” Miles bellowed. “The wagon!”

  The former paladin cracked another bandit over the head with her buckler – he was either dead or would wake up wishing he was – and turned. Her eyes widened. “The wagon! Eileen, get the wagon!”

  The bear was the closest, and she hurled another bandit aside as she darted forward with incredible speed. Despite the shape she wore, she had a good rapport with the hoses. If she could get to them, she could calm them down, but it was too late. The panicked horses had already burst into motion, and the wagon tore out of the clearing and rumbled down the rugged forest road. Miles’s blood boiled, and he surged forward. In his youth, he would have reached the wagon in time, but he was an old man now, and the wagon had a big head start.

  Climb on. One of the shadow imps held up a sign as Eileen changed into a large feline creature that Miles was not familiar with. He didn’t hesitate to jump onto her back, and they raced after the wagon.

  “Miles!” Jonathan shouted from inside the wagon. “Why is the wagon moving? Did we win already?”

  “Remain calm, sir!” Miles shouted back as the bandit saw them and began to curse. “We’ll be with you shortly. Just remain calm, sir! Remain calm!”

  “That’s not making me feel calm!” Jonathan shouted back.

  There was a bend in the road ahead, and Miles grimaced. Gullies and ravines crisscrossed this part of the forest, which had, if the legends were to be believed, once been the site of an epic battle between two mages who had scarred the landscape with their magic. Along one side of the bend was empty space – a cliff – and the wagon was going far too quickly to take the corner cleanly.

  “Slow down, you fool!” Miles roared at the bandit.

  Alas, his words had the opposite effect. The bandit took one look at the expression on his face and sped up, seemingly more interested in escaping him and Eileen than in avoiding the most likely horrible death that awaited him at the bottom of the cliff. Oh, if he got his hands on him, Miles would make him regret it.

  “Faster!” he urged Eileen. “We have to get to them before they reach the corner!”

  Up ahead, the wagon reached the corner, tried to take it, and failed miserably. The horses broke free, but the wagon continued along its path – straight over the edge of the cliff. Miles’s gut clenched, but he felt a savage stab of satisfaction as the bandit tumbled over the cliff as well. At least, he wouldn’t be walking away, no matter what happened.

  “Sir!” Miles cried. “Stay calm!”

  Hold on!

  Miles barely had time to read the sign before Eileen began to change. It was the first time he’d ever been so close to a shape-shifter while they transformed. It was a testament to her skill and power that the transformation happened too quickly for him to follow. Her flesh roiled, and fur gave way to feathers. Instead of a massive feline, he was now on the back of a great eagle.

  We’re going after him.

  Miles managed to swallow a cry of alarm as Eileen launched herself over the edge of the cliff and dove. The wagon was tumbling, slamming into the side of the cliff over and over again. In what had to be an act of divine mercy, his master’s crate was still intact. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bandit responsible for the whole mess clinging onto a tree root. Miles grabbed a falling rock and tossed it toward him. The bandit lost his grip and fell with a scream.

  “Good riddance,” Miles muttered before raising his voice. “Focus on the crate! Most of the other supplies should survive the fall.”

  Eileen didn’t reply. All of her attention was devoted to diving. With a screech, she tore the battered wagon apart and seized the crate in her talons. The sheer size of the eagle she’d transformed into gave her the strength to hold on, and Miles was relieved to see that although it was chipped and dented in places, it wasn’t broken or punctured. The screaming coming from inside it wasn’t the screaming of a vampire who had been exposed to sunlight. It was the screaming of a panicked man.

  “What’s happening?” Jonathan wailed. “Should I use my magic?”

  “Do not use your magic, sir. The situation is under control.” It went unspoken that Jonathan was better off not knowing how close he’d come to death. “Just remain calm for a few more moments.”

  “Why did it feel like I was falling?”

  Miles grimaced. His master had caught on. “There may have been a small incident involving a cliff.”

  Jonathan shrieked. “A cliff?”

  “Be at ease, sir. The situation is now under control.” They were rising now, each beat of Eileen’s wings bringing them closer to the top of the cliff.

  “I certainly hope so!”

  Once they were back at the top of the cliff, Eileen flew over to some trees and lowered the crate to the ground. Miles patted her side.

  “I am truly grateful for your assistance,” Mile said. He bowed. “If you ever need anything…”

  It’s okay. We’re all on the same team now. Her keen eyes scanned their surroundings for further threats.

  Aria rode up to them on her horse and dismounted. “Is everything okay?”

  Miles breathed a sigh of relief. If the former paladin was here, then the bandits must have been dealt with. However, her attire was in a most unusual state.

  “Are you aware that you are soaking wet?” Miles raised one eyebrow. “And unless I’m mistaken, we’re not near a stream or lake at the moment.”

  Aria glanced down at herself and sighed. Miles was glad she was wearing a gambeson with some armour on top. Otherwise, she would have made for an interesting sight. “A certain somebody decided to use water magic after you guys went after the wagon.”

  “Ah.” It didn’t take a genius to guess which of their companions was responsible. Indeed, only one of them was capable of making so much water.

  Blue Scales had arrived while they were speaking, and he all but leapt off his horse. “One of them threw a net at me!” Blue Scales fumed. “As though I was some kind of common fish to be caught.”

  “It wasn’t a fishing net,” Eric grumbled. The werewolf was the last member of the group to arrive. Like Aria, he was drenched. With the aggravated expression on his face, he rather reminded Miles of an outraged puppy. “It was a net to tangle you up, so he could stab you.”

  “Oh.” Blue Scales’s immense shoulders moved up and down as he shrugged. “That’s okay then.”

  Miles had to bite back a laugh. Was that how it worked? Apparently.

  “Good grief.” Aria took a deep breath and removed her helmet, so she could wring water out of her hair. Miles shook his head in disbelief. How much water had Blue Scales summoned? “How is Jonathan?”

  “I’m fine!” Jonathan shouted from inside his crate. “But could someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  Miles cleared his throat. Given his master’s temperament, he knew what to say. “Quite frankly, sir, I think it’s better for your peace of mind if you never find out what happened. Suffice it to say, the situation has been dealt with, and it will not happen again.”

  “I see.” Jonathan made a thoughtful sound. “Well, you’ve rarely given me bad advice, Miles. And as a scholar who has delved into matters of eldritch lore, I know there are times when I’m better off not knowing. Tell me later, perhaps, like when the sun has set and I’m not worried about being burned alive if this crate tips over.”

  “Yes, sir.” Miles watched Eric twirl his spear with almost lackadaisical ease. There was no blood on it, but that was probably due to the deluge they’d been subjected to. He paused. Now that he focused on it, he could smell the ocean. Blue Scales must have summoned seawater.

  “Those bandits were no fun,” Eric said. “Although I have to admit, it was funny watching them try to keep their footing.”

  Aria grinned. “Did you see that one fellow clinging to a tree? I really thought he was going to make it, but then two of the other bandits grabbed his leg.”r />
  Blue Scales struck the butt of his trident against the ground. “I will certainly commend him for his tenacity if not his intelligence. Am I the only one who finds it odd they would attack us despite being horribly outmatched?”

  “Greed makes men do all manner of strange things,” Miles replied. Men would kill for money and power. He knew it better than most. “As does desperation.”

  “Indeed.” Aria’s gaze had grown sombre, and she shook her head as if to clear away an unpleasant memory. “The first year or two I was an adventurer, Eileen and I had to take some less than enviable jobs to make ends meet. We fought a lot of bandits. Many of them were scum of the worst sort. They were the kind you didn’t mind putting to the sword. The world was a better place without them in it. But not all of them were like that. Some of them were just poor and desperate. They deserved prison, but they didn’t deserve death.” Her gaze hardened. “We might have ‘lost’ a few of them before they could be executed. By the way, Eileen, I don’t see the wagon or the horses anywhere. What happened?”

  The wagon sort of fell off a cliff, and the horses bolted. I can get some of my summons to track down the horses while I salvage what I can from our supplies and other equipment.

  “Good. I’ll leave it to you.” Aria looked at the others. “The bandits should have a camp not too far from here. From experience, bandits tend to operate in a fairly localised way. Assuming they’re not totally hopeless, they’ll have a wagon or something else to help transport their loot. We can hit their camp and take what we need. Consider it restitution, as well as finishing the job. It won’t be much compared to what we’re being paid for this mission, but we should be able to wrangle a reward from the local authorities if we can present proof of dealing with the bandits.” She scowled at Blue Scales. “No flooding their camp. We won’t be able to use any of their things if everything gets washed away.”

  The merman chuckled. “Rest assured, I will show more restraint.”