Attempted Vampirism

by L. G. Estrella

  “Eric,” Aria said. “Take the lead. We’ll follow.”

  The werewolf smirked toothily. “Leave it to me.” He used a Word, and Miles shivered. That was a powerful Word. “Follow me. It won’t be long before I find them, and we should hit them before they realise how badly things have gone for the rest of the bandits.”

  The bandit camp was only half an hour away on foot. As Miles and the others crouched in the bushes outside the camp, Eric gestured for them to be quiet. The Word he’d used earlier was still in place, its power lingering over the whole area.

  “There are fifteen of them around here,” Eric whispered. “Four of them are by the wagon.” And what a nice wagon it was. Miles smiled. Soon, it would be their wagon, and his master would be able to travel in greater comfort. “Four are on patrol, and the other seven are either getting the afternoon meal ready or lazing around camp.”

  “Good.” Aria pointed. “Blue Scales, you’re up front. Draw their attention. Eric, go after the ones on patrol. Miles, you’re with me. Once they go after Blue Scales, we’ll ambush them.”

  Miles nodded in approval. It was a simple yet effective plan. “Lethal attacks?”

  “Yes. Look at their wagon and the rest of their equipment. I don’t know how they’ve gotten away with it, but they’ve been doing this for some time. It ends today. I’m not going to let them go after anyone else. The next group they attack might not be as well prepared as us.”

  At the mention of future danger, Miles’s lips tightened. These bandits were no threat to people like him. Even his master could have handled some of them due to being much stronger and faster than an average human. However, a normal group of travellers could easily find themselves overrun. “Understood.”

  Blue Scales stomped out into the open as Eric loped into the woods. The bandits rushed forward with their weapons, shouting and screaming in a bid to intimidate him. If his expression was anything to go by, Blue Scales was not impressed. If anything, the bandits were the ones who looked intimidated, and it was hard to blame them. Blue Scales was enormous, and with the sun gleaming on his brightly coloured scales, he looked like something out of a story. Before the earlier fight, Miles had wondered how durable the merman’s scales were, and he’d seen swords clatter off the merman without leaving so much as a scratch. It made sense. Blue Scales could survive the awesome pressures of the ocean depths. It would take more than some cheap sword wielded by a bandit to harm him.

  “I am here for your wagon!” Blue Scales boomed in that deep, deep voice of his. The merman levelled his trident at the bandits. “Hand it over… or else!”

  “You can’t just take our wagon!” one of the bandits cried indignantly. “That’s theft!”

  Blue Scales stared. “You’re bandit. You make a living killing and robbing people. I doubt anyone will care if I kill you and take everything you have. Now, will you hand it over, or will we do this the hard way?”

  The bandits replied by forming a circle around the merman. Despite their superior numbers, they were smart enough to be wary, or perhaps, like rats, they could sense the danger Blue Scales posed. The merman towered over all of them, and his thickly muscled frame and big trident promised a difficult battle. Yet they were confident in their numbers. The bandits exchanged some whispers and then charged.

  A flash of light surrounded Blue Scales as Aria used [Fortify] to enhance his durability. A moment later, she and Miles leapt into the fray and attacked the bandits from behind. The first few bandits were cut down before they even realised what had happened. Aria slammed her buckler into the head of one opponent with sickening force, and Miles punched another in the back. The bandits went down, and the others wheeled about in confusion and shock. It was the distraction Blue Scales had been waiting for. His trident swept out, used more like a cudgel or a club, and bone and armour alike shattered beneath the force of the blow. In less than a minute, the battle was over.

  Words, Miles mused, could make combat terribly unfair.

  “We should search the camp,” Eric said. He jogged back toward them, his spear bloody. “I ran into the others. The shouting drew them back, and they weren’t paying enough attention to their surroundings.” His gaze flicked over the bodies. “I don’t sense anyone else nearby, but stay sharp. They have a few traps set up. Leave those to me.”

  “Eric is right. Stay sharp. I doubt they’ve managed to put together any decent traps, but there’s no reason to rush and get injured.”

  Eric made short work of the traps, and a quick search of the camp revealed little of worth besides the wagon, some weapons, some other pieces of equipment, and some loot. The horses hitched to the wagon were of reasonable quality, and Miles had a feeling they were the proceeds of theft as well. Miles also made a mental note of everything they recovered. There wasn’t a lot of monetary value here, but he would ensure that his master received a fair share of it.

  “That’s one less group of bandit scum haunting the roads,” Eric said with a grin. “And look what I found!” He held up a rabbit. “It’s freshly cooked too.”

  Aria rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. “Make sure you check it for poison. We can eat it if it’s still good.” Her gaze drifted toward the bandits’ cooking area. “There’s another rabbit in that cage too.”

  Blue Scales strode toward the cage. “Hmm… he is an exceptionally cuddly-looking fellow. We should keep him as a mascot.” They all stopped what they were doing and stared at him. “What?” Blue Scales asked as he opened the cage and picked up the rabbit. The small animal relaxed in his hands. “We can call him Fluffy because of how fluffy he is. Besides, I’m curious. We don’t have rabbits in the ocean.”

  “I suppose we could bring him along,” Aria said. “If nothing else, Eileen should be able to work with him. Some of her summons can attach themselves to animals, so we can make good use of him.” She gave Blue Scales a stern look. “I’m putting you in charge of taking care of him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Blue Scales said, holding the rabbit up to his cheek. The contrast between the hulking merman and the small, fluffy bunny couldn’t have been greater. “I will.”

  * * *

  Jonathan sighed in contentment. He might not be a werewolf, but the sight of the moon high in the night sky was a welcome one indeed. He had chosen to avoid inquiring too deeply into what had transpired earlier. He didn’t have the steeliest nerves, so Miles was probably right about him being better off not knowing. Besides, he trusted his servant when he said it wasn’t likely to happen again. Still, just knowing they’d dealt with a large group of bandits made him feel better. He was not a fighter, but he’d regularly hired people to deal with any bandits on his lands.

  Now that night had arrived, he was no longer useless. If another fight broke out, he could at least offer his meagre aid. If nothing else – and if worse came to worst – he could run for his life without bursting into flames. However, there were still other matters to attend to – like Miles apparently being able to beat people to death with his bare hands with frightening ease, a skill Jonathan had not known about until today.

  “I’m told you fought very well,” Jonathan said to Miles. His servant had been helping to prepare dinner. Like almost everything else he did, he did it well. Indeed, Aria had listened closely when he’d offered advice on how to season the stew. If the amused look Eric gave her was anything to go by, she was likely only a serviceable cook. Blue Scales had also watched, but not before reassuring the rabbit on his lap that he was not about to be added to the stew. Jonathan had to bite back a smile. Apparently, the rabbit was going to become their team mascot. “It’s funny, though, Miles. You never mentioned being able to fight like that.”

  Miles’s expression was calm, but Jonathan took careful note of his gloves, which were soaking in a bucket of water nearby to help get rid of some bloodstains. “It never came up, sir, and you never asked.”

  “I suppose I didn’t.” Despite his surprise, Jonathan was simply glad that no one in the team
had been hurt. With dinner almost done, the others were seeing to their bedding for the night. They would likely go to bed after dinner although they’d have to sleep in shifts. Jonathan was planning to stay up for most, if not all, of the night. The new wagon was a lot better than the old one, so he might actually be able to get some sleep tomorrow during the day. The night would also give him plenty of time to consider his options when it came to handling the dagger. He still wasn’t sure of how he wanted to deal with it, but he should have a plan in place by the time they arrived at the manor.

  “Can you tell me more?” Jonathan asked Miles.

  “Certainly, sir.” Miles nodded. “How about after dinner? I think we could all use something to eat, and this is a matter best handled privately.”

  Jonathan agreed. Although he made no secret of his family’s history – his father and grandfather had been somewhat famous for their failures – it still pained him to talk about it. If Miles hadn’t shared his past before, then he was sure his loyal servant had a good reason to keep everything secret.

  Dinner was deer stew, and it was excellent. Jonathan even helped himself to a small bowl of it. Vampires could enjoy normal food to some extent although it didn’t give them the same nourishment as blood. However, he could still appreciate the taste, and he waited patiently for the others to finish eating before he found a quiet corner of the camp. To his amusement, Blue Scales and his newly acquired rabbit – Fluffy – began to clean the dishes and cutlery. Eileen had found a comfortable spot, and some of her shadow imps were patrolling the area. They might not be the most powerful of summons, but they appeared to be highly motivated and very intelligent. If they took it in shifts, they should be able to help keep watch all night.

  Miles sat down beside him, and although he didn’t say anything, Jonathan could tell that he was tired. For all of his excellence, Miles was still human. He was no longer a young man, and it had been a long day.

  “So…” Jonathan began after the silence had gone on long enough to become awkward. “Where did you learn how to fight? Eileen said that you can crush a man’s chest with a single blow.” There were vampires who could do the same, but Miles was not a vampire.

  The butler took a deep breath, and his green eyes turned distant. It wasn’t, Jonathan thought, something he liked to think about. “I grew up in a village along the border of the Blood Alliance. It wasn’t a big village. It was a small place, perhaps forty or fifty people at the most. When I was five years old, a man came to my village from far away. He was looking for children with talent.”

  Jonathan’s eyes widened, and his hands clenched on the hem of his cloak. He’d heard stories like this before. “Was he one of the Wandering Ones? I didn’t realise they came to the Blood Alliance.”

  “They don’t come often, and they never stay for long.” Miles stared at his hands. Jonathan followed his gaze. There were calluses on Miles’s hands that could not have come from being a butler. “Vampires do not take kindly to intrusions to their territory, and that applies to warrior monks every bit as much as it applies to werewolves or paladins.” He rubbed his hands together. Was he cold? Jonathan couldn’t remember ever feeling cold. He was a vampire. A little chill couldn’t harm him. “He stayed in my village, and he must have seen something in me because he trained me in their ways. I kept wondering when he would leave, but eventually, I realised something. He was going to stay. He had chosen to become part of the village.” Miles chuckled softly. “I think he was looking for somewhere to start again. He’d gone rogue, you see. He’d left his temple and broken from its teachings.” His jaw clenched. “I didn’t have a father growing up, sir. That man… in every way but blood, he might as well have been mine.” A bittersweet smile crossed his lips. “Those were good years, some of the best of my life even if there weren’t nearly enough of them. But you know how the temples are.”

  Jonathan did. Much like the holy orders that paladins belonged to, the temples that produced warrior monks zealously guarded their ways. Deserters, rogues, and traitors had two choices – return to the temple to face their justice or be hunted down and killed. It might take years, but the temple would find them. The temples had existed for centuries. They were not about to tolerate such disobedience.

  “I was still a young man when they found him. I came home, and he was there… just… just there, sir. He was dead, and I asked if anyone had seen who killed him, and people told me who had done it. I found a letter from him too. He told me to run, that even if they killed him, he would never reveal that he had trained me. He wanted me to leave the village and live a good life. He wanted me to walk away from what happened to him.”

  “But you couldn’t.” Jonathan sighed heavily. “I know you, Miles. You’re a loyal man. You couldn’t just walk away, could you?”

  “No, sir. I couldn’t.” Miles closed his eyes. “I went after them, the ones who’d killed him, and I killed as many of them as I could, but I wasn’t strong enough. In the end, some of them escaped, and I was lucky simply to survive.”

  Jonathan gaped. The warrior monks from the temple would not have spared Miles, not after realising that he’d been trained. He had not only killed some of them – an incredible feat in and of itself – but also wounded the others badly enough that both sides had been forced to withdraw. “That night… when you turned up at my castle…”

  “Yes. I killed some of them and drove the others off, but I should have died from my injuries. Instead, the gods blessed me. I don’t know how I found my way to your castle, sir, but I did, and you took me in.” Miles chuckled mirthlessly. “I honestly thought I was hallucinating when you let me into your castle and asked your servants to tend to my injuries. Why would anyone help some… bloodied and beaten vagabond?”

  “In fairness,” Jonathan replied. “It has turned out rather well.”

  “I suppose it has. I was planning to move on once I’d healed, but I decided to stay. You took me in, saw to it that I was healed, and then you ensured that I was trained. In all that time, you never asked me who I was or why I was there. You trusted me.” Miles met Jonathan’s gaze. “You have truly been a master worth serving, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Jonathan cleared his throat. He’d never been good with emotional moments. “This… this doesn’t change anything, Miles. You’ve always served me loyally, and I see no reason to start doubting you now. Who you were before – the past you’ve left behind – I won’t judge you for it.” He patted Miles awkwardly on the shoulder. “Perhaps when the next Day of the Dead comes, we should light a candle for your teacher.” He grimaced. “At least you know how to fight. I’ve spent my whole life poring over books and artefacts.”

  “There is no shame in being a scholar, and I’m glad you’ve not had to dirty your hands with so much blood.” Miles glanced at his gloves. “It never really washes off.”

  Aria must have noticed they were done talking because she wandered over. The former paladin had her hair down and was wearing a tunic, and Jonathan had to try very hard not to stare. She looked good like this, so relaxed and comfortable in her own skin. “Do you think we could talk about the dagger a bit? You’re the only one who knows much about it, and I have a feeling I might have to help you deal with some of the mess it makes.” Her lips twitched. “It should make for an interesting discussion before we turn in for the night.”

  “Fair enough.” Jonathan waited until the others had gathered around before he began to explain. He might not have a lot of experience as a teacher, but he enjoyed sharing his knowledge with others. “The Dagger of the Crimson Dawn is a magical artefact of immense power, one of many made by the Blood Emperor prior to and during his reign. It is a sealing weapon. Do you know what that means?” Aria and Eileen nodded, but the others shook their heads. It made sense that the paladin and the summoner would know since they were the ones most likely to have either used or at least encountered such weapons in the past. “That’s okay. Sealing weapons are relatively rare, and powerful ones are excep
tionally rare since making them requires not only immense amounts of power but also incredible skill. More often than not the creation of a good sealing weapon requires Words, runes, seals, and all manner of magical techniques. In essence, however, a sealing weapon is very simple: it seals things away. In other words, it can bind or imprison things.”

  “Sounds useful,” Eric said. “There are plenty of things out there that are much easier to imprison than kill.” He caught the look of surprise on Jonathan’s face and grinned. “Werewolves might not use complex magic as much as vampires, but we’ve come up against it plenty of times.” He shuddered. “I’ve seen things, vampire, things that people imprisoned because they couldn’t be killed.”

  Jonathan made a mental note to ask him about those things later. It sounded interesting. “Based on what I know, the dagger possesses an extremely potent set of abilities. First and foremost, it can strike at things both corporeal and non-corporeal. In other words, it doesn’t just cut flesh. You could stab a spirit or a ghost with it and still do damage. Secondly, when used to strike a significant blow, it can trap or imprison the soul or essence of whatever it hits. Thirdly, the dagger can release things it has imprisoned although how much control the dagger has over them once they’ve been released has long been a matter of debate.”

  Aria bit her lip. “The dagger sounds like the perfect weapon for someone like the Blood Emperor. Almost everything strong enough to fight him either can’t be killed or can’t be damaged using conventional means. With the dagger, though, that wouldn’t matter.”

  “Exactly.” Jonathan had begun to warm to his subject. His magic was not especially powerful, but the subject of magic and its various forms and applications had always fascinated him. It grieved him to know that so many of the world’s magical wonders could not be replicated because the knowledge used to create them had been lost. The Blood Emperor alone could have taught others so much if he had not met his unfortunate and untimely end. “Are you familiar with the Shield of Argolad?”