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Marek’s eyes snapped open as he stirred awake from his sleep, a sharp inhale escaping his mouth.

His body jounced forward, mind disoriented, with cold sweat running down his forehead. The vision that took place inside his mind felt too vivid to be mere mischief of his agitated psyche.

Only an instant had passed since the illusion shattered, and his mind was on its way to erase that last bloodcurdling experience. Notwithstanding, elements of his dreams would linger in his memories for the years to come, and he could not get rid of them even if he desired to.

The lifeless wasteland, stripped of any natural formation. The vortex-filled sky, so much like the palette of an artist, so filled with hues of black and red that blended and dissolved into whirls, elicited a hypnotic pattern that induced both fascination and discomfort.

Then, a skull — a reindeer skull. It had done nothing at first, its image limiting itself to floating over the barren soil like some form of mirage, giving an aura of menace. Then, from its hollow optical cavities, an eerie, scarlet shine manifested and swelled as the time ticked by until the brightness swallowed the otherworldly landscape.

Whether the spectral cervid had uttered any word was something that Marek could no longer remember. The only sound that rang during his dream-like trip corresponded to continuous beatings — pulsations that increased their tempo with every imaginary second that transpired inside that nightmare and that caused the world to black out momentarily; every time the world arose from darkness, the intensity of the skull’s pupils increased.

A deep, ghostly pulsation that assaulted Marek even during wakefulness.

Literally — the heart poundings resounded lively within him.

It took a fleeting instant for Marek to notice those beatings did not belong to him and that his chest, although slightly accelerated, could not create such an intense thumping rhythm.

Realization struck him with shock, and the sense of danger compelled his hands to creep toward the sword fastened to his belt. Those illusory beatings were conjured by Dalavut, and those only manifested in the presence of the undead.

Madakai Striigori lurked nearby.

Marek jolted to his feet, gleaming ax already positioned in his hand and ready to sever flesh. “Sig!” Marek yelled, checking out for his chimeric partner, who, until that moment, had gone unnoticed by his senses.

Sigrid lay on the entrance of the broken shack, squatting, almost crouching; her ears were straightened, and her tail was suspended and motionless, with both wings folded to her back. Prickliness seized her natural coat, from tail to mane, and she emitted a rumble as she scrutinized the white chaos developing outside.

Marek briskly walked toward Sigrid’s side and noticed her fleshy mouth’s commissures curled into a snarl, and her irises flicked in anticipation. “Cold one,” she uttered, eyes never wandering off from what lay in the blizzard. “He is here.”

Brown eyes adjusted to the outside in an attempt to spot the imminent danger, but his human vision could not penetrate more than a dozen or so yards beyond their hut. “Can’t see a thing…” Marek bit his lower lip out of frustration, having no choice but to rely on Sigrid’s winter-adapted senses to spot the vampire. “Any rough guess of his direction?”

“No… I just sense his presence, but there is no noise or scent—”

“ We forgather again, Marek Blakesley. ” A smooth voice pierced the harsh climate and unperturbedly flowed directly to Marek and Sigrid’s ears, sending shivers across their skin. In the act, the monstress reacted with an indignant growl.

“ Tell me, ” the voice went on, “ Hath this harrish land treated thee according to thine dossities? ”

“This freak…” Marek mumbled, his words stacked with irritation and loathedness. Was the vampire up for a senseless chatter? Perhaps he was trying to throw off both of them, given that numbers no longer aided him. Either was that possibility, or he was deluded enough to believe he could persuade Marek to relinquish his longsword.

In any case, the two tactics stood up as moronic for Marek.

“It has treated me better than you did, Striigori!” Marek decided to play along and cried back; by keeping up with his chatter, Sigrid might use his voice as a beacon that could give away his exact location.

A chuckle resounded, “ I see. Our last riding left a sour smatch inside thine mouth. Nonetheless, if thou avow me, I may mend our meaking relationship. ”

That much I doubt, leech. Marek scoffed, then tilted in Sigrid’s direction and whispered. “Have you found him?”

“No… his voice is… strange. Blizzard doesn’t help either.” She responded, ears slowly veering above her head.

Marek clicked his tongue, but before he got to push Sigrid further, Madakai continued with his talk. “ Drakaen Aedra Ruten** , or Arcane Infection as thine memories told me, is such an unsawney malady, ” Marek spun toward the outside, surprised at first, feeling that quickly contorted into a rage — once again, Madakai evoked his past without agreeableness at all. “ To have thine link with thy Ley Lines corrupted and thine flesh invaded by pure aether must be agonious. Thy fragileness of earthly bodies cannot abroke thy flow of magick, and thus thine flesh writhes. Those blessed by fate transmogrifies into wizards; thy ill-ured may suffer wlatful mutations; and for humans like thee…**” With all the fake pity, Madakai explained Marek’s condition, leaving that incomplete sentence hanging in the chill air for Marek’s mind to digest.

“It could have been worse. My ailment could have turned me into something like you and perverted my tongue to the point that I’d be spitting garble every bloody second!” After yelling that remark, Marek sideglanced at Sigrid; her ears were twitching, but nothing else. Given her lack of response, Marek continued his speech. “Whatever sickness torments me is of no concern to you, Striigori, and I’ll take no mockery from someone whose appearance is matched by that of a stuffed corpse!”

“ Be wary with that irreverent tongue of yourn, sellsword. I walk on sempiternity, but I suren thee, my patience is as mortal as thine kind. ” Madakai let his discontent slip out of his mouth, and his tone darkened. However, his temperament dwindled right before his other words followed. “ But let us go back to thine torment. I offer thee a doorway for thine malady, ” Marek frowned, “ Give me thy Gift, and I will deserve thee with immortal flesh. ”

Sigrid’s head began to shift, and her eyes began to wander around. Marek paid her no mind for the time being, his face frozen with disbelief.

“ As a vampyre, thou will fear no physical punishment, whether earthly or preternatural. Any wound turneth into a fleeting simulacre. Thou will be beyond pain and prevail to see human generations spawn and collapse. The passage of time will be ** daughtless. **”

Marek said nothing, not because he pondered over Madakai’s offer but because he was baffled by it. After no more than ten seconds, a loud snort revealed his choice. “Hah! Do you suggest sharing your curse with me?! Have you seen yourself in a mirror?! So much audacity for someone that couldn’t extend his toe into the daylight lest it burns to a crisp!” There was an eerie pause, and upon noticing Madakai would not answer, Marek went on. “You know, I thought you were carrying a plot with all this chit-chat, but after hearing your proposal, I see you’re just a deluded fool!”

“ Thy scars from ages ago linger not only across my body, sellsword. My enemy was aunterous, and its punishment hath stripped me of several of my gifts. But with thy spade— ”

“That’s a fancy way of saying you and your kind got their arses kicked by Seolvor,” Marek boldly interrupted with a remark aimed to hurt the vampire’s pride.

“ *Do not uppen his name! * ” And Marek’s aim hit the target, causing the lieutenant to burst with ire. The human could not deny that the hellish outcry almost made him cower; it even stopped Sigrid’s scan and made her wings jerk.

Despite everything, Marek considered his insolent comeback worth the risk, even if he could not grin at the moment. Still have one or two sensible nerves. Don’t you, Striigori?

A pregnant beat transpired for Madakai to mend his ego, or so Marek assumed. The fighter took the opportunity to check on Sigrid, who looked uneasy, her blue eyes and lupine ears darting in all directions. Needless to say, that was a troubling signal, but before Marek had the time to ask her anything, the ghostly voice rode the blizzard and reached his senses.

“ Thy Gift of Nedere serves as a gateway between thy mortal realm and thy land of thy Princes. A rift voning towards interminable reserves of nederean energies. With the spade’s tree within my grasp, I will feed upon thy realm’s aether, and not only my beauty and powers will once again return to me, but also a path to transcendence will be unveiled for me. ”

“Good luck taking this sword from my hands!” Marek scoffed. “Last time I checked, you got your arse manhandled by us, and you no longer have your zombies to aid you!”

There was a chuckle, feeble at first, but it grew into an unnerving laugh. “ No zombies to aid me, do thou say? I beg to differ. But if thou regard my words as a lee, why do not consult it with thine wanton? ”

Marek grimaced and then turned to Sigrid, whose features were invaded by nervousness, her eyes and ears increasing their erratic twirls. Oh crap. “Sig… what can you—”

“More cold ones, Marc…” She muttered, confirming Marek’s fears. “They come from South… and North…”

“That cannot be… we slain the ghouls, and what was left of the horde burned under the sun… right?” Sigrid did not answer, too engrossed in scanning the surroundings, taking her four-limb posture, the fur of her back growing spiky. “How many ghouls?”

“... Ten of my hands in fingers. Perhaps more.”

Marek made a quick mental calculation. “Forty? That many?” Cold sweat began to cascade down Marek’s neck.

How could this happen? What piece of relevant information did he miss? Marek read about the undead and how they tormented humankind, scarce as it was, but that did not prevent him from gluing his eyes on the available pages and scrolls that described the deeds of the Argentum Army.

Marek recalled his childish studies of old, and realization slapped him with dread — Desecrated our dead. That was not a fancy description of using human bodies as raw matter or raising them through magical means, which Madakai has shown no hints of possessing. One single vampire was all that was needed to defile mortal corpses.

The undead were akin to a plague, but those words took a dramatic turn and came out as literal — for one single vampire to spawn dozens of ghouls in only two nights was such an ill-omen calamity that would make a festering pandemia look like the flu.

“ My patience hath met its twilight, sellsword, ” Madakai resumed, and both Marek and Sigrid turned to the outside, the two of them snarling. “ I tried to be diplomatic. I offered thee a triacle for thine malady. But I see at last… human’s gee hath grown in our absence. I believe reeducation is in order; the humans have forgotten their true tent: be our ** cattle. **”

Marek’s face warped with rage, teeth bared and creaking with each other. “You son of a rotten bitch! I’ll finish you and make sure the worms devour your leftovers!”

“ Time for pross is long gone, sellsword. ” A crunching noise joined the buzz of the storm, and both Marek and Sigrid twirled in the direction of the sound, two different directions. “ I hope thine body surviveth utter annihilation. To rash that seen body of yourn would be such a waste. ”

“Shit!” Marek yelled, then hastily turned to Sigrid. “Sig,” she stared at him, “Can you get us flying from here?”

“Not with this storm, no. Last time I carried someone, I lost control midair and crashed, and that was without strong winds present!” Sigrid articulated, a bit of despair taking over her voice.

The sound of shattered snow became more evident, and a faint gnar became noticeable. “Then we run. I can blast them with my rifle, but not while they are scattered or near us. We cannot allow them to circle us!”

Sigrid’s head lowered, and her eyes shifted quickly, putting her brain to work to come up with a course of action. Her ears jerked erect, and her stare went back to Marek. “The path to the mountain. Not a lot of cold ones over there. I may not fly while carrying you, but I can climb with you on my back.”

Marek wanted to argue about the logistics behind that strategy, but time was no longer in their favor. “We have no choice. Let’s get the crap out of here! ”

“Follow me!” Sigrid leaped toward a corner of the house, charged through a broken door, and shattered the frame of a window. She howled once outside, her pupils moving from one corner of her eyes to the other to scan her surroundings.

She expected to spot those pale humans from three nights ago. However, what she witnessed flooded her with revulsion and trepidation. Across the land and above the debris, several silhouettes loomed with apparent calm, not even reacting to the wild winds. All of them stood on four legs.

Wood plunked, and a cloaked individual landed beside her, that moment with a device hanging on his back and two magical blades in both hands. “What do you see, Sig?!”

“Marc. Th-the animals. They are cold ones too!”

“Wha—” Marek’s eyes darted around. His vision suffered a temporary handicap, but that did not stop him from spotting many shadows hidden in the white heaviness.

Those forms were unsuited for human-like ghouls. Marek’s stomach tightened in dread. This is absurd. There’s simply no way. An animalesque growl broke his denial. “ Also the animals? ” An undead beast, which revealed itself as a wolf, rushed in their direction.

“Marc! Hurry up!” Sigrid intercepted the beast, brushing it aside with her talons. The lupin did not even yelp. “Follow me!” Sigrid took the lead and marked the path to the mountain.

With one last clench of teeth, Marek steeled himself and no sooner started to trail behind the monstress, the shine of his weapons drawing a line on his wake.

“Caud-pie.” Several yards away, sitting over one of the dragon’s materialized breaths, a thin entity pursued the duo with his gilt, unblinking stare. He had been leaping from place to place, slipping past the chimera’s acute senses with his supernatural stealth.

Despite his furtiveness, he had been detected before gorging the throat of both man and monster and had to resort to his persuasive abilities. Needless to say, talking ‘sense’ into the mercenary turned out as troublesome as taming a wildcat; nevertheless, during the discussion, Madakai gained time to mobilize his horde to surround the twosome.

“I belittle thine dossity in thy past, sellsword, but I do not err twice,” the vampire stood on the glass-like mound. “We will see who amongst us thy deluded fool is.” He twirled his gaze toward his undead legion with quite the tranquility and gave a silent order, one that did not need to be vocalized.

Slay thy man and firk. Bring thy Gift of Nedere. Time to feden.

Immediately, the ghoulish force screeched in unison and sprinted toward their prey. The ghouls were bereft of their sense of taste, stripped of all desire but mindless servitude, the only vestige of their former life being mere mutilated instincts. Notwithstanding, Madakai liked to think they were eager to sample human and bird flesh.

“Dadless art thy mortals,” said the vampire before blending with the arctic darkness.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Curses! Crap! Shit! Marek cursed mentally, knowing that doing it in reality would attain nothing but waste his breath. He could hardly spot what lay ahead, stumbling once in a while and occasionally colliding with suspended branches, the impacts making his nose and cheeks ache and bleed.

“Coming from your right!” Sigrid cried from several yards ahead. She was leading the way, warning Marek of natural obstacles, as well as taking out charging enemies, which so far had not appeared to greet her; going by her last warning, the zombies were busier flanking Marek.

With clenched teeth, the man cast a glimpse to his right. The echo of crunching and hasty steps invaded his ears, a sound too swift to belong to a human trot, the constant crack of the snow reminding him of his time with the wargs, albeit without the characteristic canine panting.

The woods became less dense, and a pack of three wolves came to half-light once they were parallel to the fighter. The wolves veered and charged, growling and flashing their gaping snouts directly at Marek. The man tsked, finding himself forced to stop and pivot to face the trio.

His swinging weapons cut the air and flesh, three attacks for three creatures, slicing the forelegs and the stomach of the first wolf, the head of the second, and the lower jaw and neck of the third. Their mutilated bodies kept going by inertia and ended up behind Marek.

His aim was true, and the wounds he imparted should have silenced the attackers evermore. But for his grim realization, the growls were not extinguished, and movement stirred at his back. He twirled to witness one wolf with its two forelegs missing crawling on the snow and another with a missing jaw staring at him with black-as-ink eyes, far from defeated.

Fucking hell. This is like a plague!

A roar echoed behind Marek, and before he could see what caused the bawl, the ghoulish lupin leaped forward. Its efforts did little to strip the warrior of his footing and ultimately had the remaining half of its head severed.

Upon dealing with the twice-dead wolf, Marek turned again to deal with the loud newcomer; his eyes widened when he beheld a hulking white mass rushing at him.

A polar bear.

“Damn it,” was everything Marek got to utter. But a white blur tackled the beast from its sides, making it topple with a thump.

“Move on! They are getting closer!” Sigrid barked, struggling to keep the bear embracing the ground. Marek’s eyes briefly darted from between bear and chimera before resuming his escape.

Marek went ahead, but with Sigrid keeping the ursine zombie at bay, he lacked in the direction department, and after ten seconds of bolting, he stumbled over a root and plunged into the snow.

“Grh!” This is useless. I can outspeed human ghouls, but wolves and bears are out of my league. They’ll catch up sooner or later. No sooner had Marek finished his contemplation than another assailant invaded his view: a reindeer.

Madakai, you walking sickness! Without the time to set a proper defense, Marek hurled his ax at the ungulate. Despite their undead status, the animals were as soft as they were in life, and the spinning blade had no issue in separating its head from the rest of the body, the latter moving forward and stopping one yard away from Marek.

Not even paying attention to check the cadaver, Marek began to stand up; he raised his head, ready to continue with his escape, but spotted a raptor snaking in his direction.

Reduced to only one sword, Marek steeled himself to withstand the incoming two-hundred-pound dinosaur that, even if put to sleep for good, its momentum would most likely knock him down.

“Coming!” A shriek resounded, and Sigrid’s feathery form executed a bullrush — not against the raptor, but against the human.

“Waah—” A surprised squeal escaped from Marek’s mouth, and before he knew it, Sigrid was carrying him.

“I know you don’t like to be carried,” she said, and Marek turned to look at her, confusion spread across his face, whereas Sigrid’s features were firm as she focused on the path ahead. “But you’re too slow!”

Within Sigrid’s arms and with confusion wrinkling his face, Marek peered over Sigrid’s shoulder and observed how a horde rushed relentlessly behind them. “Forget about it. Keep going!” Untroubled, Marek encouraged Sigrid’s decision. Although he would have preferred not to be carried like a bride, his macho pride was the least of concerns.

“Good. Hold on tight!”

Sigrid’s speed on two legs did not match her quadrupedal gallop, and occasional staggers made her look like she was about to plummet to the soil; despite her apparent clumsiness, the monstress kept up the distance between them and the undead legion during the chase in the woods with relative efficiency.

“Grrr! How come you didn’t know about vampears creating more ghools!” Sigrid moaned after one or two minutes of running away, clearly frustrated.

“I’m no bookworm, Sig. I read what I read out of enthusiasm and curiosity, not because I desired crede— watch out!” A raptor appeared from the sidelines and invaded Sigrid’s close quarters. The she-chimera barked in the direction of the attacker and prepared to defend; her arms might have been busy supporting the human’s weight, but her niveous flappers were available for self-defense.

The undead dinosaur was turned away and flung aside by the smacking wing.

“Can’t you fire the blazing thingy now?” Sigrid asked.

“It needs to be loaded first. Besides, did you forget the last time I pulled the trigger with you near? ”

An irritated shrill resounded. “Forgive my roodeness, but that weapon is fooking usel—” Sigrid’s clumsy curse failed to touch air as more growls echoed ahead of them.

Two wolves.

“Oh, shush yourselves!” Marek quickly adjusted himself on Sigrid’s arm grasp; in a swift movement, Iousterard departed his hand and went directly at one wolf. The blade connected with the skull, creating a valley at the top of its head.

As one wolven crumbled, another lunged forward. But just like it happened with the raptor, a limb armed with remiges repelled the attacker.

“Yeah, well,” Marek resumed their mid-escape discussion, “it’s not a weapon designed to be used in the heat of battle. It works for sizable and distant targets, you know, like a bloody dragon!”

Sigrid hissed in dissatisfaction and spoke. “Alright, so you need to be safe enough for you to load and fire the metal length.” Marek nodded. “Fine. I’ll outrun the cold ones and then place you up on the mountain pass. Safely.”

“Those monsters can scale vertical surfaces like bugs.”

“So do I,” Sigrid reassured him. “I’m the apex predator, Marc. Be it weather or mountains, no obstacle can stop me.” Marek glared for a couple of seconds, unsure at first. However, after all the deeds she had done for him, his insecurities vanished in no time.

In the end, a nod showed his agreement with Sigrid. “Very well, take me there!”

Sigrid and Marek exchanged no words for the remainder of the chase. The enemy leaks, composed of wolves, raptors, leopards, and reindeer, died out in time; apparently, bears were not a common troop among the undead forces, and Marek thanked the Gods that no warg or manticore manifested. Every single invader who got close enough to the duo got swiped by a white wing or cleaved by a spinning missile, which reappeared within Marek’s grasp seconds after being hustled away.

Having passed some stressful minutes, perhaps fewer, the towering pines and snow-clogged vegetation shrank until they disappeared from view, their absence giving birth to rocky formations and revealing the presence of the rising mountain pass that gave access to the peak that towered over the region.

In other circumstances, the view would be a marvel to behold. It was an ascending, u-shaped valley, pretty much like a natural series of bumpy stairs custom-made for giants, colored with both gray and white.

But with a snowstorm invading the region and a pandemonium of howls growing at their backs, no eyes could properly flatter the beautiful scenery.

As Sigrid entered the hilly terrain, the ground grew steepier and rougher, making a two-foot sprint unsuited for advancing further; all her limbs were needed to carry out the next task. “Hold onto my back. I need all my arms to climb fast.” The fighter nodded, sheathed both weapons and went to wrap his arms around the monstress’ neck.

“Don’t let go!” She cried.

“I don’t plan to!”

The mountain rock ticked and screeched every time avian and lupine claws connected with it. Given the jaggedness of the landscape and how it turned more and more vertical as the twosome advanced, Sigrid had to crawl through pebblestone in some segments, climb up in another, and even jump from ledge to ledge, the latter activity almost taking a squeal out of Marek more than once.

The wind stood intense and lawless, tugging Marek’s cloak down at times and forcing him to strengthen his grip around Sigrid’s neck; he thought his grasp could prevent Sigrid from taking air, but in no instance she showed discomfort for his brusque hold.

Loose rocks and slippery sheets loomed in every corner, ready to catch the climbing monstress by surprise and be the cause of her fall. Nevertheless, Sigrid’s pace kept up unhindered no matter how many times a rock would break off, her nails slipped down by inches, or Marek’s heart skipped a beat — nature could not tame her.

Upon scaling several tens of yards, Sigrid found her way into a protruding slab, spacious enough to allow movement with relative freedom. Marek wasted no time: he jumped off Sigrid’s back as soon as they crawled on stable ground and turned to the edge to see how far the horde stood.

The whirling winds carting snowflakes were obstructing most of his view, but that did not prevent the human from perceiving the clunking sound rising from the depths of the abyss, the unmistakable noise of rock hitting rock, which told Marek the ghouls had not surrendered in their pursuit.

Nonetheless, going by the noise, it would take some minutes before they could catch up with them, assuming they could climb that high.

“We have time,” Marek twirled toward the mountain wall, one arm unhanging the device from his back as he moved. “Although I can reduce the number of decaying creatures, everything would be for naught if we don’t kill Madakai once and for all.” Sigrid limited herself to following Marek with her gaze, the owl-wolfess seemingly unaffected by the arduous scaling.

The lesser undead were not a threat to the region per se. Going by Sigrid’s account of her search, without a leader guiding them, the ghouls did not even bother to look for shelter and ultimately were reduced to ashes by the sun’s bright touch. The greater menace was Madakai Striigori, who spread the curse of unlife as if it were the plague. As long as he wandered the territory, no one but the dragon itself would rest safely.

“Be wary of the maggot-headed bastard. So far, we have failed to spot him. Gods know where he is hiding.” Sigrid issued an affirmative bark and moved to the edge — or she would have if it had not been for a faint tapping noise causing her ears to flick. In short, the fur on her back and tail flared.

Parelally, Marek knelt on the rock, ready to unwrap the rifle and insert an explosive projectile inside the device’s chamber.

“Marc… he’s up the mountain,” Marek heard Sigrid speak. At once, the man stopped the task of assembling his firearm, which had not even begun. A chill seized him from nape to back, and he snapped his sight upward. Marek was about to curse the turbulent atmosphere by once again hampering his vision, but his eyes were not necessary in this instance — he, too, could sense the vampire.

Had Striigori anticipated the course of action of the twosome and gone ahead? What could the monster expect to do while alone? But… What if the vampire was not alone? Even now, the beasts were struggling to climb up to their current position, and as fast as Madakai could be, his servants could not catch up with Sigrid and him without both of them noticing.

Unless… unless the ghouls waited atop the mountain all along.

Before Marek had the opportunity to dwell into that possibility, the rock tipped and the snow crunched; instants later, a bellow came from above, and, like an avalanche, groups of humanoid entities crashed into the ledge.

“—!” Marek skipped backward, evading the flesh debris that landed right where he had been kneeling. The wrapped rifle lay behind the invaders and beyond Marek’s immediate reach.

Not far from him, a shriek made the platform vibrate; at once, Sigrid charged toward the ghouls, which were numbering seven, a number that showed signs of increasing as the time ticked by.

All the humanoid zombies were lumped amid the ridge, former humans and greys alike — unfortunate people, victims of the vampire’s sickening fangs. Madakai must have sent them up before he went to speak with Marek, or even before that.

The chatter. The chase. Those events were coldly calculated by the vampire lieutenant, everything to ambush the duo.

Guess your title is not for show. Marek tsked.

Iousterard and Dalavut appeared within the fighter’s grasp with such speed that they very well could have been there from the beginning. “Legs and head, Sig!” Marek screamed, and Sigrid responded with a muffled howl.

The seconds moved on, and the ghouls surpassed the ten; in normal circumstances, that number generated no danger to the duo. Notwithstanding, unlike last time in the ghost hamlet, Marek stood in front of two new obstacles: reduced space and harsh weather.

Whatever gives you confidence, Striigori. But no matter how many hindrances annoyed Marek, he would not let himself be mortified by them — he had Sigrid beside him.

In short, the air was filled with the grotesque sound of sliced flesh. Sigrid’s talons had little grace but were swifter than most swashbucklers Marek had seen. Every time the she-chimera heaved a wing, one or two zombies flew through the air; whenever she snapped her talons, pieces of flesh as large as an arm flung around. Every movement produced by the monstress was a pale blur that almost blended with the environment. There was definitely something enthralling about Sigrid’s fighting style, unsophisticated — yet effective — as it were.

Within seconds, the horde adapted to the circumstances, and two greys — their color leaning more to ash gray than limestone given their deceased status — appeared and charged toward the plumaged killing machine. If a human-turned-ghoul rivaled the strength of an orc, one grey-turned-ghoul could very well match a bear.

Marek’s ears picked up a hiss, and his contemplation over his partner’s battle broke off. However, he was far from surprised, and the claw strike only scratched the silvery steel of an ax.

Don’t think that I forget about any of you.

Ax and longsword undertook their choreography, and arcs with the hues of his two weapons were drawn in midair with every one of their swings, the thrashing obstacles of meat and bone doing little to perturb the lines. Every arm or head that failed the mark and remained within Marek’s immediate reach was severed in the spot.

The zombies’ pack tactics shifted, and after their typical beset failed, they advanced like a tidal wave to the edge, eager to cast both living fighters into the void.

“Beware! They want to drag us to the depths!” Marek informed Sigrid.

“They may as well try moving this boulder!” Sigrid responded with a half-howl, half-shriek. The ghouls who assailed her, half of them mutilated from the waist down and forced to crawl, gnawed at her canine legs like a swarm of hungry hounds, although, for Sigrid, they might as well be squirrels.

She was not off the mark: the ghouls could have better results in knocking down the very platform everyone lay on than shoving the she-chimera out of the rock.

Marek snickered to himself. That’s my comrade.

His weapons whirled around, frustrating every attempt to push him out of the slab and doing what was possible to keep his back to the wall. Marek had to receive a couple of blows to keep his favorable position, but beyond giving some blood droplets, the consequences were trivial — Marek and Sigrid had that fight in the bag, and, before long, the number of undead was reduced to half their efficiency.

However, as their victory over the battle for the ledge turned more and more evident, a doubt manifested in the back of Marek’s mind: Where was Madakai? Was he pure bark and no bone, and decided not to participate in this entanglement of his?

But while Marek pondered the lieutenant’s whereabouts, a spoonful of pellets and some frost fell over Marek’s shoulder. He stared up, expecting to see another group of thralls landing around. He saw nothing at first, but then a semi-round shadow began to turn visible.

Marek’s eyes widened upon realizing what approached was a rock as sizable as a human torso. He hopped backward, and the stone crashed upon the platform and shattered into pellets. Not a blink had transpired, and another thump rumbled no more than two feet away from him.

Granite was raining over their heads.

“Sig! Rocks from above!” Marek shouted at Sigrid, alarmed. Sigrid’s ears twitched, but she had no time to do much more — a chunk of granite dove right by her side and grazed her upper arm, taking a yelp out of Sigrid’s beak.

Fragments of mountain poured over the slab for the next seconds, the floor shaking just slightly with every impact; likewise, the platform was filled with the sickening sound of broken bones and smashed flesh stemming from the ghouls who failed to move out of the way. Marek and Sigrid’s past struggle to keep their bodies far from the edge paradoxically set them right on the epicenter of the solidified shower.

Madakai bamboozled them both.

“Crap!” Marek cursed, struggling to move out of the reach of the rain of pellets. The cadence of the projectiles was far from fast, but they were difficult to detect until they were a dozen or so feet above his head. Furthermore, his wrappings, which rested next to the wall, stored volatile bullets, and if a rock landed on the wrong point, a booming firecracker would signal the end of his journey.

Sigrid did not fare any better than the dual-wielding fighter — a handful of ghouls, including the three orcs, now disfigured and soaked with putrid blood, persisted in their grapple and hindered the monstress’ capability to evade. Given her tight situation, she was forced to use her wings and arms to deflect the rocks.

“Kye!” However formidable Sigrid might be, brushing aside sizable rocks with her wings made her bones ache.

I need to help her. Marek raised his right arm, shining ax in hand. One of the orcs needs to go before an even heftier rock appe— There were loud crackles, and the hair on Marek’s neck straightened. He glanced upward and noticed a huge shadow.

It was a troll-sized boulder, if not bigger.

“Si—” The human outcry was muted by a booming boom that shook the very platform.

A couple of ghouls squelched and snapped under the mass of granite; fortunately, the enormous rock did not catch Sigrid under its weight as she dove out of the way, separating further from her human partner.

Skreee.

However, a tremble accompanied by a cracking noise eliminated any possibility of a sigh of relief from appearing.

Half of the slab — the half that held Sigrid — was falling apart.

Sigrid, on four legs because of her last rushed movement, sluggishly tried to stand and flee from the collapsing platform, shrilling and barking as she brawled with the zombies. That her enemies were orcs was no mere chance — Madakai, wherever he was, sent his stronger soldier to hold her tight for the rock to smash her.

And now that the boulder missed its target, they were trying to drag Sigrid down to the foot of the mountain.

No. “Sigrid, get out of there!” Marek shouted; he wanted to rush directly at Sigrid, but the zombies on his side, recovered from the sudden jolt, resumed their harassment of the human fighter, so the opportunity to disengage faded. Marek grunted in irritation but did not try to face the troop and instead decided to throw Iousterard toward one of the orcs to lighten Sigrid’s burden.

Right after the other half of the ledge started to landslide, the spinning ax scored a bullseye and split one orcish head into two, giving Sigrid the opening she urgently needed. She seized the chance without a second thought.

When the slab practically soared in the air four yards below its original location, the she-chimera propelled herself upward directly to the edge of the protruding rock. Despite being unable to unfurl her wings, Sigrid succeeded in her leap and held onto the edge, the lower half of her body almost hanging in the air.

Marek gasped out loud when he noticed Sigrid’s strigine face peeking out of the border of the precipice. He had the heart up in his throat during the entire time the ledge crumbled apart, and it was no exaggeration that he was eager to dive down the chasm to save his friend from a potential death.

However, Marek’s mouth, agape after witnessing his partner’s success, began to curl down into a grimace; likewise, his eyes widened, and the color drained away from his face.

His world went into slow motion. Above Sigrid’s head, a dark cloud vaguely humanoid swooped like a raven, its trajectory traced by a pair of golden lines. The blurred presence did not pass unnoticed by Sigrid, her eyes and ears shifting toward the moving shade — her enlarged, steely-blue eyes revealing her sheer surprise.

“—! Si—!” Marek strode forward, his grip strong on the ebony-red sword, raising his arm to adopt the attacking stance of a lunge, desperate to stop the creature from inflicting harm on Sigrid.

But before he closed the distance, blood sprayed around, and a bird-like yelp echoed around — Madakai just impaled Sigrid with his spear-shaped hand, the maneuver too fast for Marek to discern where the attack landed exactly. The chimera’s agony rippled across the air, and because of the pain, she lost her grip on the stone and was subsequently pushed into the abyss.

She shrilled as she fell, the noise stinging Marek’s heart with desperation, sorrow, and anger. “Nooo!” His thrust, now empowered by his wrath, picked up steam, and he dashed toward the wraithlike entity in an all-out attack.

He felt a yank. Another ghoul decided to seize his cloak, and his lunge lost speed. The keen point of a red-black longsword stopped mere inches from the vampire’s almost flattened nose.

Marek only got to see the ring-like orbs for one eyeblink before one bony hand lashed out at his face. The human fighter reacted and intercepted the attack with his ax, the impact between cutters creating a dry clonk. A direct attack might have been prevented, but the supernatural strength of the vampire was enough to shove Marek a few feet backward.

Nonetheless, Marek recovered the balance with no issue and stabilized himself, albeit only physically. The hold over his sword strengthened to the point his veins popped out of his arm and his knuckles went pale, his clinker eyes throbbed bloodshot, and his nostrils frantically flared. But, above all, his heart ached.

“Greetings, sellsword. We art finally at bow’s reach from each other,” commented the vampire, his ring-like irises focused on the human’s clinker eyes, his dark-as-dusk locks and tattered garments fluttering with the fierce wind.

“Damnable monster,” Marek hissed venomously, eyes glued on the enemy: Madakai Striigori. So consuming was his focus on the vampire that Marek no longer paid mind to the surrounding ghouls. Curiously, the vampire’s servants were in no rush to kill Marek.

Madakai tilted his head and clicked his fangs. “Tell me not the death of thine wanton drownned thee? Was not Blakesley’s heart as hard as mettle?” Madakai taunted, slowly approaching Marek’s location. He was flexing the fingers of his right arm, sharp nails glistering with the vivid blood of the chimera. “Did not Marek Blakesley revel with the dead of firks?” Marek bared his teeth and began to issue a growl of his own.

Marek’s eyes, normally clinker, adopted a reddish hue. Feelings were getting the best of him, but he could not surrender to his pain and sorrow. He had to convince himself that Sigrid remained alive down the mountain pass. His head needed to cool down lest Madakai have the edge in battle.

Don’t let the monster throw you off, Blakesley. Sigrid is more powerful than any monster in this barren land, cursed leech included. She is fine. She has to be fine. And… even if she isn’t, I cannot allow this monster to get away with Dalavut .

Marek inbreathed through his nostril and momentarily closed his eyes. A hoary radiance came from his waist and bathed his face, and just then, his eyes lifted open, the red hue of his orbs already gone. Next, a rapid hand unholstered Iousterard, which the man brandished to adopt a combat stance; in the blink of an eye, his two weapons crossed in front of his chest, and his left side leaned toward Madakai.

Upon noticing the humor shift on the warrior, Madakai’s withered mouth and jaw twisted into a malformed smile. “Yes. That’s thy sellsword Dalavut had betold me.” The lieutenant stooped forward, arms semi-stretched to both sides. “Perhaps, when I reclaim thy Gift, I can put thy human body into good use.”

Marek detected movement to his left and anticipated that the ghouls were about to charge in unison.

“Come and take it, then. Leech.” No sooner had Marek finished that sentence than the leftovers of the horde, vampire included, beset at once.