The Bloodhound

The two men to either side of me brushed their shoulders against my own. The men next to them did the same, and the sound of clattering armor rang throughout the arched hall.

Everyone was silent, listening to that sound. The pattering along the dirt, the dull thuds against stone walls, the mostly-human shriek coming from the other side of the heavy double doors.

I gulped, wincing at every muffled cry for help, cringing at the sound of ripped flesh and scattering viscera. The man to my left nudged me with his shoulder.

He was as scared as I was, though he was trying to hide it. Through his half-helm, heavy beads of sweat made their way down a trembling face. He kept a cool smile, though, and his eyebrows were contorted upwards.

“First battle?” He asked. “Don’t worry. Everyone gets nervous.” His eyes were stuck on me with intensity, a glare that almost shot straight through. I nodded vaguely, almost not hearing his words. It may have been my first battle, but it was more than certainly his first battle against this foe.

Shouts echoed from behind us. A few of us cocked our heads back, at the heavily-armored knights holding our backs. They began marching forward, slowly, and the wooden doors ahead let out a creaking whine.

A cool breeze swept through, followed by the stench of blood. With uncertainty, the dozen of us began marching forward into the light.

I had seen the market square before. My usual patrol route took me right through the main bazaar, passing by all sorts of haggling merchants and hurried caravans. The market stalls were never bare of fruit, bread, wine, anything you’d need. During the day, it was even more crowded than this uneasy formation, and you could hardly look left or right without meeting eyes with some stranger.

I had never seen the market square like this before.

It was empty. The crowds of the street were replaced by gusts of dirt blowing idly in the wind. The stalls were all stripped, or toppled over, their contents spilled and smashed to the ground. The well-trodden paths winding throughout the courtyard were all streaked red with blood, the people it came from littered around indiscriminately.

Sweat was starting to build up under my gloves. My fellow soldiers begin uneasily spreading across the open streets, and I drop my spear to the ground, fumbling at my fingers. If I’m going to die, I’m not going to die with clammy hands.

One of the armored knights’ shouts from my behind.

“Pick it back up, coward! He’s not going to spare you!” His words were punctuated by the crack of the wood door slamming shut behind me. A few of the other soldiers, their spear-tips trembling, pivoted around to face me. Scorn was managing its way through the terror across their faces.

Just as I went to proclaim my innocence, a limp, bloodied body flew past my face, a splash of red touching me on its way. It hit the wall with force, smashing like a melon, bone, blood and more went in every direction.

“Christ!” Came a shout from a solider. From the other end, another solider shouted the same thing.

So, did I.

In the center of the courtyard, perched atop a small wooden roof fixed above the town’s well, was the creature. He was man, for the most part. Brindled, pasty white skin covered his every rippling muscle. Though his body hairless, the overgrown, mangled hair that draped long past his shoulders made him seem more animal than anything else.

Nothing more than a tattered loin-cloth covered the creature’s genitals, and his legs were stained dark red. His hands, claw-like nails protruding from the tips of his fingers, were almost blackened with blood.

He was looking at us. Staring us down, scanning our line. As if he was counting us. As I stared him down, reaching slowly down for my spear, I realized the intelligence in his eyes. The intent.

The creature had hounded the town for longer than most could remember. The Bloodhound, the Vampire of the Forest, many just called him a demon. He strikes with irregularity, stealing families and leaving nothing but remains so scrawny and devoid of life, it’s as if he sucks the blood from the body itself.

Now I was facing him. The boogeyman that kept me well-behaved as a child. The dread that every guard carries with him as he marches around the lonely streets at night.

The creature snorted, and took a step forward, arching his back as if to pounce.

Three of the soldiers were equipped with cast iron round shields to complement their short swords. Those men rushed forward, gathering at a space between two stalls. With their shields held high in front, the men formed a paltry wall.

Three other men ripped arrows from their quivers, knotting them into their wooden bows. Myself and the remaining four simply stood still, clutching our spears.

As if satisfied with our new position, the creature completed his movement. He bounded forward, with ease, onto the ground below. A drop of several meters might have at least slowed the best of men.

The creature simply began to sprint. Before anyone could shout a command – before I could register what I was seeing, the creature had pounced against the shield wall, the middle man tumbling onto his back and shrieking at the crack of his bone.

The creature, his glare fixed on the writhing body beneath him, began slamming his closed fist onto the shield. The metal dented under the force of the blows, and with every hit the man screamed louder.

“Loose! Fill it with arrows!” I had no idea who gave the command, but the archers didn’t hesitate. Three arrows flew through the air, one missing, two connecting directly into the creatures back. It shrieked, though it did not recoil. Strings of inky blood sprayed out of his newly opened wounds, and more blood flowed still as the shields men drove their blades into the creature’s side.

Still, it did not recoil.

Instead, a lazy backhanded slap to his side sent one of the men flying onto his back. Another lazy swipe from his other claw opened the throat of the other.

I let out a gasp, perhaps more of a scream. The men to my side readied their spears and took a shaking step forward. I stayed still as a statue, as three more arrows whizzed by my head.

Two more struck the beast, embedding deep into his chest. This time, its shriek was of anger, not pain.

As the men to my side charged, so did the creature. Spear tips protruding out for meters were snapped and thrown to the side as they clashed; the creature effortlessly grabbing the men up and tossing them aside.

The man who had made a paltry attempt to comfort me managed to drive his spear up into the creature’s underarm. His death was especially cruel, the creature ripping out the spearhead and driving it back into the man’s throat.

Then the creature looked me in the eyes. The Bloodhound. The Vampire of the Forest. The demon. He seemed to hesitate, and spend a few moments dislodging the weaponry that was slowing him down.

Then he stepped toward me, his animalistic posture correcting into that of an upright man. I let my spear handle slide from my hands and drop to the ground.

What am I able to do? What harm could I bring to this unholy monster?

He towers above me now, having to crane his head down to meet my glance. Where are the arrows? Fear prevents me from turning to the archers. Fear prevents me from running, from striking this monster first.

The embrace of his slimy, tense fingers tightens around my throat. Finally, my body decides to react, my hand coiling into a first and striking upward.

He squeezes, and I feel the energy begin to seep from my body. My airway completely cut off, I try to force a gasp for air, my throat contracting and fighting against itself. The creature continues to stare into my eyes, a sly grin joining his demented glare.

I throw another fist upward, but I never see it connect. My vision fades, and my violent chokes become weaker.

Everything becomes weaker, as I begin to learn what death from suffocation feels like.

I never thought this is how I would go.

Now I realize the creature is holding me in the air, my legs and arms dangling limply. Before darkness takes over in full, the air cracks and an arrow pierces his skull, driving deep into his brain. Before even the creature could react, two more come flying in from opposing directions. One lodges deep into his eye, and the other joins the first, resting deep in his skull.

The monster lurches forward, a human curse escaping his bloodied lips. I feel the hard-stone ground smash up against my back, and my waning gaze is left staring up past the castle walls, and into the deep blue sky.

I live, for now.

The energy I needed to sit myself up and witness the carnage around me was absent. No matter how hard I struggled, my head would not lift from its spot, my arms would not wrestle against the weight pushing down on them.

The cries of pain and death continued around me. The sounds of that monster running on all-fours, the pattering of his bare feet and hands against the blood-soaked dirt, the sound darted around me. To my left, then to my right. Then in the distance. Then back again.

Each time the running stopped, the stomach-churning sound of shredding flesh, a blood-curdling scream, rang up into the skies.

A quarter of an hour had passed. My body still would not respond to my will, my limbs still lay dead, without feeling. Lord knows I tried. The Lord will have some questions to answer to when I see him.

Whenever I can see him.

Despite the dull feeling of death creeping up my body, my mind would not falter. I close my eyes to try and make it come – all it does is make the sound of the creatures presence more noticeable.

What was the creature doing? With my party all dead, that marks the fourth wave of men this creature had slaughtered since the Banner Lord had ‘trapped’ it in our market square. The creature could clearly escape, easily. The leaps and bounds it could make, the dents it punched in that iron shield. It moves like a demon, why won’t it leave?

Does it simply hunger? Have we enraged it, with our attempts to kill it? Have we injured it?

The sky has been staring back at me long enough that clouds now drift among its blue abyss. The creature still moves about somewhere near, the dull thuds of its footsteps now slowed to a gentle pace. Every now and again, I hear the moist sound of a savaged corpse being disturbed, the sound of blood dripping against the stone walkways.

Soon, the Banner Lord will send in another wave of men to try and quell this violent demon. More men will pour through the door behind me, and more men will uselessly plunge their weapons into its hardened flesh.

Oh, how I hope death comes to me before then.

As the footsteps begin to near me, I fight to see what my body has become. I try to find the source of my near-paralysis. Perhaps this creature had broken my spine when he dropped me.

My left hand trembles as I begin to force it upward, battling against the crushing pressure that pushes it down. When my body begs for me to relent, I refuse, and shift my head slowly, focusing my gaze on my aching hand.

Skin sags off my bone. Skin and bone, my fingers were nothing more. Eyes widening in horror, I try and follow my gaze down my arm. My wrist, thinner than that of the pretty young girl that warmed my bed last night. My arm looked more like a loose sleeve than my own flesh, and my dark, ripe arm hair was falling out, strands slipping out with the gentle wind.

The pressure takes over again, and I drop my useless, sagging arm. What has the creature done? It’s not paralysis. It’s some sort of fatigue, as if he had aged me a hundred years in an instant.

I cannot even gather the strength to correct my gaze, to take it off the corpses to my side and back to the skies above.

The corpse to my side slides up, towards that sky, and I realize the creatures footsteps are closer than ever. A dull thud in the distance, and the footsteps begin to hone in on me.

I’m too weak to flinch when the creature grabs my jaw and hoists me high into the air. I do not even feel the strain of my body dangling from my neck. I feel nothing. I only see the creatures face, now placid, inquisitive. The arrows that had made their way into his skull were now broken off at the tips, now nothing more than an inconvenience. Though one of his eyes was completely destroyed, it didn’t seem to bother him.

“Still alive?” He asked. with a snort, as he turned my head to either side. It was like a parent checking a child’s face for dirt. “Barely.” He concluded.

The creature turned and began to move, my dangling body still held high above him. The force of his grip made it hard to see, made it hard to hear, but it was clear what came next. Without effort, the creature yanked my body behind him, then threw it forward. I glided in the air, free, for only a moment. A sturdy wooden pole met my face. I heard a crack, then rebounded down towards a ground which never came.

As I fell, instead of seeing the bright blue sky, I saw the shanty roof affixed above the towns well, and realized where I was going. The stone tube rose around me, and the darkening walls grew moss the deeper I fell.

After only a few, fleeting moments, I felt a numbed impact against my back, a soft, wet surface beneath me. I was at the bottom of the well, a dried out and useless fixture of the towns market place. Not even my grandfather had seen water drawn from this well.

Looking weakly to either side, I realize now that it was now a pit of bodies. Some of the men I marched in with were once again by my side. I could only assume that, underneath me, were the men that came before us.

I could see the creature crane his head over the edge of the well. He leapt down after me, his feet digging into one of the bodies with a sickening crunch. Circling around like a hound finding a place to rest, the creature yanked one of the corpses up like a doll. One swift movement, and the creature had torn off the head, slurping free-flowing blood from the neck like a water fountain.

My gaze loosely followed the creature as it prodded around the ground of bodies. Every now and again, as if finding a prize, the creature would energetically rip up a corpse, behead it, and lap up its blood for only a few moments.

Terror had long left me. Death no longer scared me, I welcomed it. I longed for it. As the creature moved about, every ounce of my effort was put toward moving my head to follow it. Every ounce left was put toward trying to speak, trying to scream.

It didn’t take much longer for the creatures eye to meet my own. He stopped for a moment, frozen in place, as if caught out. His face was featureless in this light, his entire figure no more than a black silhouette. Yet I could see the confusion in his face.

“Still alive?” He asked the question again. Just like last time, I could tell he wasn’t expecting an answer. “You’re strong. Strong of will.”

The creature dropped down onto all fours and strode over me, the strong mix of his bodily odors overriding the stench of blood. He stared down, his face level directly with my own.

My lip was quivering, now. The words were burning at the back of my throat, the scream ready to leap off the edge of my tongue. I just needed the energy.

An elongated, drooping tongue crept from his mouth. He used it to make an exaggerated lips-licking motion, and smacked his mouth.

“You’ll be a filling feast, then.” He croaked as he fixed his fingers around my neck once more.

“Why?” The strained words finally escaped my lips. They came out more as a croaky groan, and as I spoke, I could feel the inside of my chest click and pop.

The creature recoiled immediately, withdrawing his arm and sitting upright. He regarded me in silence for some time, as I struggled to make up my next words.

“Why.” I had to stop, catch my waning breath. “Why are you doing this?”

I had wanted to curse this unholy demon, demand him back to the hell he came from. I wanted to call for help, summon any nearby soldiers searching the area. More than anything, I wanted to scream.

“Why?” Is all that came out.

“Do you judge me?” Came a whispered response. The creature covered his own mouth as he spoke, almost as if he was shocked by his own words. “How can you dare to judge me?”

Suddenly, the creature broke into a series of hacking coughs. Without restraint, the creature brought up and shot out globs of gooey spittle from his throat. After a few more throat-clearing grunts, the creature spoke once more.

“Do you judge an animal for hunting its prey?” His voice was clearer now. It rang with a certain smoothness, a certain humanity, that it hadn’t before. “Do you look with scorn at your slave drivers, constructing your wonders on bloodied backs?”

If I wanted to respond, I couldn’t. My body still weighed heavily on me. Without regard for me, the creature pressed on, pacing around without regard for my immobility.

“I did not ask for this. What man would? I have to feed. I have to live. I have to kill for that.” The creatures voice croaked when he reached certain pitches, as it did as he continued to raise his voice. “You would kill if you had to. To survive. You would kill every day. That is the nature of man.”

“Kill me.” Another splutter of words made it out of my broken throat. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“You’re not long for this world. I’ll take you, in time. But you asked me a question.” The creature strode closer once more, leaning down to my level. With surprising care, he hoisted my head up with his hand, and rested my body against the side of the well. “I’ve fed on thousands of men in my long, long life. They all curse me, with their dying breaths. Too scared to see reason. Not one of them has asked me a question. Not one of them has asked me why.”

With the sudden shift of my body, I could feel parts of my body again. My useless legs, more-than-certainly broken. My aching and warped spine. My skull, cracked open, dried and fresh blood leaking alike.

The pain was there. I felt it all. But it was dulled, numbing. Death was close. I could tell. With that comfort, my voice returned, and my mind began to settle.

“So much…” I stopped myself, cutting that train of thought short. “What are you?” I asked instead.

The creature leaned in closer than ever before, close enough that the specks of his skin were visible through the darkness.

“I’m a man. Can’t you see?” His mouth was coiled into a playful smile, and his eye had no hint of malice, anger, or intent. “You know what I am. I’ve heard your names for me.”

A sudden yelp of pain escaped my lips. The dullness of it all was starting to fade. The creature – the man – now smirked, and stood at full height.

“I’m a vampire. Cursed with immortality, and a forbidden hunger.” His smile slowly faded. “Not the form you were expecting, I imagine.”

“A vampire.” I couldn’t help the weakened chuckle that came after. He looked at me, sternly, expectedly. I was starting to see more of the man in him than the creature. The common looks that you see in conversation. Right now, he was asking me, ‘what’s so funny?’

“When I go, I’m going to ask God.” I stop as a surge of pain shoots through my body, a trickle of blood escapes my lips. “I’m going to ask God why he would create such evil.”

A smile temporarily flashes on the vampires cold face. He scoffs.

“Do what comforts you. I’ve been alive for four hundred years.” He spread his arms out wide, motioning around at the eviscerated corpses they were perched atop. “I doubt any God would allow this.”

“Good point.” I said, fighting back waves of pain now suddenly appearing. “I guess I’d have to ask the devil.”

There was a momentary pause.

“You still think of me as evil?” The vampire asked. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I sought this out?! No! This is a curse! A disease! I long to eat the flesh of an animal once more, not man. I long for death! How I long for death itself!”

The vampire was all-but whining in the air, howling to a God he denied moments ago.

“You think me evil, but you don’t understand the good I’ve strived for. The vampire that created me is now slain. The vampire that created him, too. For years, I sought to eradicate this curse from the Earth.” His face came close to mine again, his legs resting on my battered torso. I hacked up more blood than I had ever seen come out of me before, and the vampire continued. “It’s just me, now. What you call ‘evil’ is the sole reason our species has not fallen to this insidious way of life.”

Suddenly conscious of my pain, the vampire lifted himself off me, allowing broken breaths to resume once more.

“Why don’t you kill yourself?” I asked, unconcerned with my moral integrity. The vampire scoffed again, and his head sunk low.

“I’ve tried. The only way out of this is to let the hunger take me. Tell me, would you starve yourself to death?” His tone was sullen, his words slow and broken. “I’ve done my duty for this world, and I’ve chosen the worst way of life. I could have had a castle, terrified armies into serving me. I could be a God-king. Instead, I’ve chosen this town – this backwater hole on the border of two warring nations – to spend my days. No one will miss your townspeople. No one will notice me.”

Silence crept in, only broken by the gentle breeze above, and the moist sound of blood shifting. The vampire continued to hang his head low, faced away from me.

Pain was now rushing through my body in-force. Strangely, the more it hurt, the easier it was to talk. The more my mind returned.

“You’re not what I was expecting.” I forced a lighter tone. Some civility. The vampire shrugged.

“I told you. This isn’t the form you would be expecting.”

As I looked around, my head beginning to pivot with ease, the horror of my surroundings began to sink in. As much as I held it back, vomit came out with my bloodied coughs. The vampire didn’t seem to notice. He stared down at his own feet all the more.

“Why don’t you fight for good?” I manage between my violent coughing fits. “Fight for a nation. Fight for the king. You could feed on the enemies…you could…”

“How is that any more just than what I am doing now?” The question seemed to snap the vampire out of his thoughts. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. The blood lust will set in. It’s a terrible thing. Starve it, and I grow ravenous, crazy. Feed it, and I grow greedy, and cruel.”

Another click in my chest and a coughing fit takes over that lasts for several minutes. At the end of it, with drool leaking from my lips, I splutter more words out at him.

“Christ!” I finally scream in frustration. “Why aren’t I dead yet?!”

The vampire was in my face when I opened my eyes.

“Because I’ve fed directly on your life. Until I finish it, you’ll hang in limbo. The vampire curse is so pleasant, isn’t it?”

I grimaced at another surge of pain, struggling to maintain eye contact. I asked the vampire what he meant. What ‘feeding directly on life’ meant. The vampire motioned to the bodies around him.

“Vampires drink blood. It sustains us. But it’s a raw food. Uncivilized, if you would. Your very life itself, though –“ The vampire wrapped its engorged fingers around my neck once more, and in an instant, I felt weaker once more. It wasn’t from lack of air; I could breathe as fine as I had been so far. “- that is much more nourishing. Much more…empowering.”

In just a few seconds, I felt myself grow somehow weaker. I could feel the cheeks of my face deflating; I could see my hand grow even wearier. The vampire, after taking a moment to enjoy his treat, let go of my neck, and continued on.

“To feed on a man’s life is a cruel thing, though. Your friends around you, everyone in this well, they’re all close to death. On the thread. Enough life for me to feed on, but not so much that they know what I’m doing. I feed on their life, and I end their physical suffering. This…this is the most merciful I can be. Do you understand, now?”

My voice had escaped me again, my body suddenly feeling heavier once more. So instead, I nodded, wearily. I did understand. For as much as this creature should die, he had killed countless other creatures. He had chosen to make this lair his home, and kill only out of need. Who could blame him for his actions so far? Who could judge him, despite his crusade against his vampiric brethren?

The more I nodded, the more relieved, almost at-ease the vampire seemed.

“If your Banner Lord hadn’t found me this morning, I would have hibernated for a dozen more years. Now, I need to feed, grow strong, and escape. Find another town to reside in, another source of food to stave off my eternal insanity.” The vampires one eye was full of sorrow as he spoke. “This could have been prevented. I never had to strike you down, we never had to meet like this. I’m truly sorry for having to take your life. On one hand. On the other…I think I’m glad I met you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation.”

I was nodding all the while. Part of me felt praised. Part of me felt anger, indignity. Most of me was ready for the death he spoke of.

“Your death here will not be solely to sate my hunger. As long as I am alive, there’ll never be any more of me. I hope that comforts you, for what comes next.” The vampire stood up once more, almost brushing himself off. As he did, my eyes widened as I noticed the men in shining armor, lining the mouth of the well.

The vampire saw my eyes, and followed my gaze. As soon as he saw the dozen men, blocking out the light and pointing down with crossbows, he let out an inhuman shriek. No different to the battle cry of the mindless monster from before, nothing like the man I had just spent the past half-hour speaking to.

The vampire was quick, leaping up and digging his hands into the wells stone wall. The men above were almost as quick, letting loose a volley of crossbow bolts down with striking accuracy.

Near all of the bolts pierced through the vampires skull, causing it to recoil and cry in pain. It did not stop its climb, however, and the men above were prepared. The twelve stepped back, twelve more men stepped forward, with newly loaded crossbows.

The vampire was already half-way up the well when they fired again, most of the bolts striking the vampires chest, neck and face. This caused the vampire to drop back down, a splash of blood and guts erupting from the ground as he hit it.

I let out a scream, mostly of pain, partly of shock. No one participating in the fight heard me. The vampire scuttled around the well floor for a few moments, wildly and without purpose, before leaping up on the walls and climbing up even faster than before.

The twelve men had shuffled once again, and delivered another volley of bolts into the creature. Inky, red tendrils rained down from his body as he reached the mouth of the well, slashing forward at men darting out of my sight.

Then a spearhead pierced him. Another one from the other side, and a third. All through his chest. The vampire still fought, still struggled, however the spears held him in place. Another man drove a sword into his stomach, and even more bolts flew into his flesh.

I watched the vampire struggle against the force of the men holding him in place. I watched the vampire shriek at every blade that entered him. I watched the spirals of blood fall freely through the well, some of it splashing across my own face.

A wave of remorse swept over me as I watched the struggle. Such a fearsome, god-like beast, reduced to what looked like an animal, pinned in place. Men hacked wildly, endlessly, at the suspended vampire.

Finally, the sweet darkening of my vision started. The comforting feeling of numbness spread through my body. The remorse fades. My regrets and worries fade. Death is finally coming for me.

As I take one last look up at the struggling vampire, I take comfort that death is coming for more than just me.

...

Dust fell freely from the creaking wooden boards above my head. The cramped infirmary room had been my home for at least a few weeks – I think. After the well, I remember waking up here. Then I remember dying again. I recall hazy memories of vomiting my guts over the side of my bed, of being force-fed soups by kindly old ladies.

Now I’m here, staring at the idle wooden door, waiting for anything. When someone finally does step through it, the darkening of night had taken hold. I passed out again and had woken up later that night, or perhaps days later. I honestly could not tell.

An old man garbed in a tattered grayish robe waddled through the door, taking his time to close it behind him. As he waddled around in place to face me, he looked almost shocked to see my eyes meet his.

“Oh, heavens! You’re awake again. Come now – no, don’t try and sit. Just relax there. Come, open up.” The old man shakily held out a vial, a potion of some kind, and dripped it into my gaping mouth.

The taste of bitter, easily overwhelming the dry and dusty taste that I had woken up with. Without asking permission, the man ripped my bedsheets down, revealing my naked body, covered in leeches.

I tense in shock at the sight, and the old man eases me with a shush.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m just taking some blood.” The man smiled warmly at me. I remember his face now. Vaguely. It’s the town bloodletter. I had seen him around, though thankfully never needed his services.

“How –“ My voice croaked. “How long have I…?”

“It’s nearing two weeks now, I’m afraid. You must have taken quite a fall. If you’re wondering – yes. We killed the beast. The Banner Lord strung his corpse up in the town square for the King to collect. Your efforts weren’t in vain, young man.” The old man began to strip the leeches of my stomach as he spoke. “You’re a town hero. There’ll be quite a party thrown for you when you’re upright, I imagine.”

I lay back and let the aching of my head take over, my memories to form more solidly in my mind. The day was coming back to me, slowly. The more I remembered, the more I began to look down at my own body with confusion.

“I should be dead.” The words blurt from my lips. The old man looks at me, an eyebrow raised.

“Now, now. Don’t be like that.”

“No, I should be dead. You don’t understand. My arms, my legs. They were shattered.” I run my hand over my arms, my muscles as full and healthy-feeling as they had been before. “He smashed my skull open, he, he drained my flesh, my fingers were nothing more than skin, I…I don’t understand, I- “

The old man gently, but firmly, pushed me back down, feeling my forehead as he did.

“Calm down, boy. You’ll need a few more days rest, I think. The shock still has you. Don’t worry, you’re fine. You had nothing more than a few scratches and bruises when we found you. You’re lucky, don’t question the Lords mercy.”

The old man worked in dutiful silence for a time, stripping the fattened leeches from my body carefully, painfully, one by one.

“I don’t understand.” I repeated. “How am I alive?”

“By the Lords miracle, boy.” The old man repeated, standing up with a bucket now full of writhing leeches. “Try to rest some more. I’ll let the Banner Lord know you’re awake. He has some questions for you, about the fight.”

He smiled warmly at me, and then took his leave at the same waddling pace he came in with. Alone, silence creeping in, I slide my legs off the bed. I sit upright. I stand.

All without effort.

I look over my naked body. My muscles were bigger now, hardened, tense. My skin was pale white, as if I was as sick as I was supposed to be. I feel the back of my head, and feel only the smooth firmness of my skull.

In an instant, a smile cracks over my face, and I jump in place for joy. Whatever had happened, I beat death.

Then my stomach began to grumble. I was hungry, as I should be. Days gone by living on only soup. A man needs to eat.

Without a second thought I open the wooden door and step into the cold, barren hall. Doors and flickering candles line my either side, although coming down one direction is a handmaiden, a basket of laundry clutched by her side. She was a pretty thing.

She stops in her tracks when she sees me, stifling a giggle. Ah, right. I’m naked.

I begin to walk toward her, my stomach continuing to growl.

“Hello.” I wave at her, my mind feeling a little hazy. “Do you know where I can get some food?”

The handmaiden takes a step back, holding back her giggle still.

“Um, sire. Maybe you should return to your room. I um, I can see your…” She trailed off. Why? She’s looking at my face with concern. A concern that turns quickly to terror, as she starts to back up.

I don’t know why. All I know is that growl in my stomach has turned to a tingle. A tickle deep in the pits of my body that needs to be satisfied. An itch that needs to be scratched.

Before I know it, I’m sprinting at the woman. She’s crying in terror, hurling her basket of laundry at me in her retreat.

I catch her easily, grabbing her by the neck and tossing her to the wall. The whole building seems to quake in response, and the woman’s body falls uselessly with a crack of bone.

She whimpers for a while, as I pace around her, trying to figure out what my body is telling me to do. Once the instinct comes to me, I do not hesitate.

I wrap my hand around her quivering neck, and squeeze.

I feel it.

I feel her life. I taste it.

It’s delicious.