Nathan rode hard, leading the Embers beneath a full blood-red moon.
A day since leaving the village, the Burning Lands were just another few night's ride. Yet upon getting free of the never-ending darkness looming over Marryvia, his head stung.
Sunlight, thin as it was, drained him.
He couldn't stay on for much longer past noon, and Dany had to help him down his horse, blood leaking from his lips. Steam rose from his pores, white wormy wisps, screeches raked like rusty steel between his ears, and it was blinding to look at the sky.
"Breath," Dany said, unstrapping her left arm gauntlet. "Take a few sips."
As she rolled up her sleeve, William urged her to stop.
"We can't let him feed so often, it'll make him more susceptible to-."
"To what?" Dany snapped, glaring the young father. "I promised him I'd keep Nathan alive! Besides, he's already a vampyre, starving him or not won't change that."
William, hand on his cross-star, knelt before Nathan. "The more you drink, the more you'll be drawn to them, to her."
"She can kiss my arse," Nathan stuttered, eyeing Dany's arm like a fresh grilled meat.
She drew her longsword, a heavier blade than most, poked a hole in her arm, then let him suck.
It was so warm, so thick, so full of life! She's a soulless dammit, one with no life, how could it taste so-calm yourself, he rambled ending his thoughts. Just a few more sips…
"That's enough," Dany gasped, yanking herself away.
He tried snatching her arm back, crawling after her as she leapt up.
On his knees, he shook his head, cursing to himself. Upon trying to get back on his horse, the stupid animal kicked and whined. Not until the little choir boy put a hand on the steed's long black mare was Nathan allowed to mount.
A ridiculous fucking animal, he almost shed a tear thinking of Yuri, his childhood friend and horse, rotted to the bone out in the war-torn wastelands.
'Don't think. Just breath. It's just for a little while longer,' he promised himself.
Larosa would find a cure.
She was the smartest person he knew, loyal, determined…yet broken.
If there were ever a time for the gods to answer his prayers, much as they dared not to, it'd be for an audience with Isaac Pyr. If, there was no way to free him of blood lust and the razor daggers on either side his tongue, he'd bite out the turd lord's heart.
"Nathan," William said, the trio resting beneath a growing overcast, "the lords haven't forsaken you. They'll never forsake you."
"Aye," Nathan said, tucking himself within his cloak. "So they tell me."
They didn't tell him shit.
It was all wrong. There was no chance for him to return to the valley, his honor was forever stripped, and there was likely no way for him to be with Larosa again. He didn't know how, but something was speaking to him.
Something from the darkness, though almost a half mile away beyond the cliffs, whispered to him.
When he looked at Dany, she knew she felt it too.
"This what it's like?" He asked as she wrapped her fang scarred arm.
She didn't answer at first.
Only after securing her gauntlet back on did she mutter, "Try to rest."
He couldn't.
Dare he say he was almost thirsty again, but a grasp of his hilt changed kept his dry throat at bay. Snake sword, he was called, Viperess, he named his blade. Father always said it was bad luck to name a sword, but what difference did it make?
Nordwell left the valley and returned a hermit cripple. He left the valley and over the course of four years was excommunicated, just the tip of a long list of horseshit.
An hour before dusk, he sipped on horse blood from one of two jars remaining.
He told Dany he was ready to move again, and she agreed, whatever it was from the blackness of the cliffs giving them a surge of spirit.
William rode a dozen paces or so behind, closer to the muddy valley.
Over a last hillside, fog appeared beyond the river, thicker than ever before.
Currents moved fast, the river lashing like hundreds of vipers, all spitting wet cold venom. Nathan's hands trembled as the trio approached, and he almost started turning his horse away.
"Let's find a narrower crossing," William suggested. "If I get caught in those rapids, I'm not getting out."
Somewhat relieved, Nathan appreciated the young father faking a fear of the river for himself.
Despite being a weasel little runt, he wasn't just a lad of the cloth, but a good lad.
For over an hour they skirted along the river, a few dozen paces off, searching for a thin crossing. Wails echoed, deep blood curls Nathan wished he'd not hear again for another lifetime. Farther west along the river, shadows thickened.
Branches swayed, their shadows slithery with slow spirals.
Blood curls howled again, then snarls, then roars, then steel on steel.
"Gargoyles," Nathan whispered. "Gargoyles hate vampyres."
"For good reason," William said. "Long ago gargoyles and humans fought side by side, most of them anyway. Vampyres being creatures of the night, who hunted people like dogs, were like wolves coming for a herd."
"And the gargoyles were shepherd dogs," Nathan said, remembering the old tales.
William nodded.
Dany, longsword drawn, pointed to the river. She crossed first, at least twenty meters of water up to the horses ankles. Though jagged rocks stuck up from one side to the other, the horses were nimble, keeping balance even after stumbling a few times.
William almost fell, but Nathan reached out, grasping the young father's mud-stained white cloak. It didn't sting as he'd believed it would, and William thanked him with a weary smile.
Viperess drawn, Nathan crept ahead with Dany into the growing fog.
Or so it seemed, as smoke was more abundant within the air than before. The Burning Lands were a reality more so than before, blood reeking the air as well.
Heavy groans shook Nathan's bones.
Sword up, tight in his palm as he fought throbbing stings, lights flickered ahead. Red eyes, and dim yellow, the vampyres gnawed on the gargoyles flesh while it wheezed. One stood over it, holding a great black sword to its throat. The other was fangs deep in its chest, drinking from its heart.
Wings twitching on either side itself, the gargoyle's eyes were weary with defeat, yet it cursed the name of Quarrath and the Dark Lord.
"Fucking cowards….to wait while I awaken….fuck you!" The female gargoyle gargled, mouthful of blood.
She was light grey, long fiery hair, yet muscled more than any man could hope to be.
The sword bearing vampyre faced the trio, eyes like molten coals. It was the dark paladin, and Nathan, without warning, leaped from his mount.
Dany cursed, shouting for him to stop
William commanded light, and it was as if a star were rising in the woods.
A single stride forward, as if he were winds of s storm itself, and Nathan was toe to toe with the paladin. He thrusted, and the paladin hissed, soaring back. It was all he could muster, as William's light blinded him as much as the others.
The feeding vampyre wailed, Dany driving her longsword through its back. It hissed, flailing as she pinned it, then white flames engulfed its skin.
While the burning vampyre screamed, the paladin whispered to Nathan.
So far, in the shadows, the black plane where the Dark Lord let his worshippers walk freely, it spoke like a growling storm.
"Feed, young master. Feed, for you are young, and the lady requires you be nourished…"
Nathan looked to the female gargoyle, her eyes fighting to stay open, blood soaking her leather wrapped vest.
"Don't!" William warned, raising his cross-star higher.
"Do not listen to the heretic. Thou are a living creature like anything else, and you must feed. Cold as ice, a gargoyle's blood will ease your burning heartache."
"Come out and fight!" Dany shouted, light shining on her sword.
The paladin laughed, voice fading within the fog. "If not now, then soon. So much to feed on, the abundance of these battlefields…"
"Bloody fucking vampyre!" The gargoyle spat at Nathan, closing its eyes.
He licked his lips, then shook his head.
Don't lose control, not now, he demanded of himself. Don't let the paladin, a garbed up slave have a hand over you.
Yet the gargoyles blood was so fresh, raw, unlike any other he'd tasted so far.
Dany drover her longsword through the garyogle's chest. It gasped, spitting up blood as its wings flapped wild.
"What are you doing?!" William screamed, horrified.
"Go on," Dany said, twisting her blade. "Better to do it this way, then feed on it while it's still alive."
William somewhat saw her point, and Nathan didn't argue.
He waited until the gargoyle stopped shaking, then bit into its throat. Crisp, cool, almost savory, like a cooked slab of beef, warm red in the middle. Juicy and tough, he groaned sucking the neck dry.
After wiping his mouth, he held in a belch.
William held it together for a moment, then gagged, vomiting to the side of his mount.
"Eight lords," the young father muttered, wiping his mouth. "I'm not getting used to that."
Dany sighed, looking at Nathan with a tiny grin.
They shared a small laugh, brother and sister the brute decreed them as, a hand on their bellies as the young father shook his head.
"Gods be damned," Nathan said, climbing back on his horse. "If I'm to be cursed, then let it be here, where the laws of man don't apply."
"You'll only get worse," William said, fighting another urge to vomit. "We make for the nearest fireborne camp, and I will urge the matter to The Order at once. You're the son of a fabled knight, not a mons-."
"My father wasn't a knight," Nathan said, a firm hand on Viperess' hilt. "None of my kin were, we all just bid for the highest honor a low-born valley rat could."
He looked at the dead gargoyle, and knew were she to be human, she'd have been beautiful.
"Of course it doesn't matter now," he said, throwing up his hood.
William, cross-star raised, led them on.
No longer tempted by the darkness of the cliffs, his own heart was after him. Nathan would bend it to his will, even if it meant losing what little of himself he had left.