The Heir of the Varcolac

The beer is too watered down, but Maica suspects that if she drinks enough she’ll manage a few hours of sleep. Hadryan’s voice dances in her head telling her to run, to leave the woods. Her mouth was dry, and held the taste of dirt which was permanent when living in the wild. Bending down next to Tyson’s sleeping roll Maica slowly empties his bottle of beer into her mug.

Pike wouldn’t return until just after dawn, and Maica hoped he would have news on troop movements. Their patrols had been stalled in previous weeks by the increased range the dragons were now occupying . Without any news to relay back to camp they risked being pulled from the woods and stationed with the conventional army unless they produced results.

Maica never missed an opportunity to laugh at the brilliance of Man to wage a war amongst themselves while both sides fled dragons. The brain speaks through the hand, and the hand of Man was destroying itself.

There were more reasons to be in these woods than reconnaissance. Maica needed to stay close to the Shifting Stone, as close to her former home as possible, as close to the hills where she and her brother had trained under their father’s guidance. These woods were where Maica felt Fiara would return for her. Her survival remained more important to her still, and the concern that she would have to leave soon was becoming real.

Would she still hear Hadryan’s voice if she traveled too far?

They had been careful to extinguish the cooking fire before the sun went down. Now blanketed in darkness Maica focused on the noises around them, not the ones in her head. Nothing more than bugs gave away their presence, and the occasional rustling of Graham grinding his ass along his pile of leaves. Tyson’s beer was warm, but Maica downed the last drop and allowed herself to dip into sleep pressed against the boulder, seated between her companions, ignoring their collective stench, and her steel clutched tightly in her hand.

Keeping her eyes sealed to block the flittering sunlight Maica felt a soft slap bounce off her cold cheek. Pike slapped a scrap of meat back and forth on Maica’s face motivating her to wake up. Dropping her breakfast in her lap Pike began describing what he had managed to witness while watching the Black Army. The sea of troops, armored in black, accompanied by hounds as large as young dragons, and equipped with loud armored wagons stuffed with enough gear to feed the Blue Grass valley for more than a year. Less than a mile away from where Pike spoke to Maica and their team the army was camped among the hills. Safe from the dragon's eye, but blocked by the open fields from advancing further. Pike confirmed the rumors they had heard about their size.

More than a thousand wagons, three men stood in the Black Army for every one of their own, hardback tents being built meant to survive the seasons. They didn’t hide, they allowed themselves to be seen, allowed their numbers to be known. The arrogance of their newly crowned King was apparent, but Pike speculated they were prepared to last until they discovered how to defeat the dragons.

“I’ll go with Pike and relay this back to camp,” Tyson said rising to his feet.

“There’s one more thing. I got as close as I could to them. Maica, that force is not only Man. There is a mist around them, you need to watch them until I return.” Pike spoke with a worry in his voice. The casual voice Pike spoke with was adept at hiding emotion, but now the soldier betrayed his own secrets. Maica gnawed at the scrap of dry meat without speaking. Considering what would even frighten Pike.

Graham was happy to let Maica patrol on her own, happy to lay in his pile of leaves all night, snacking on their rations with no one to stop him. Sprawled among the highest branches Maica’s black hair flew back with each gust of wind. Men would only look for a scout on the ground, never thinking to turn their heads to the trees. Her feet locked into the knots between branches, squelching any fear of falling, and allowing Maica the option of sleep. A leaf holding berries as a snack rested on a branch near Maica’s hands, but she had ignored them once she saw the camp. Pike had been right, there was magic among the Black Army, it swirled in clouds only someone with the blood would be able to see, someone like Maica, or Pike, or someone like Hadryan.

Sliding her feet out of the knots, descending from the edge of the forest, Maica crawled into the open field. Confident in the lack of rocks in the field she pushed her way through the tall grass on her back. Keeping her eyes on the sky, her eyes searching for the flying hell of the Green Flame, watching for the terror carried by the light of the morning. Above her the stars shown beyond the paired moons. A beautiful quilt upon which the heavens looked down on Man.

If you find yourself in Hell, enjoy the scenery.

The ground was wet, which helped with sliding across the open field, but the wet grass showed her path clearly without recovery. Even in the dark the broken grass left behind Maica traced itself like a snail across a stone. The sky was beginning to turn its morning purple. She was beyond the midpoint between the misted hills and Graham waiting for her back in the woods. Remaining calm, inching her way towards the enemy’s camp, Maica felt the air beginning to warm, and the wind begin its morning rise. Just above the tree line now the violet sky met its blue replacement.

Her father had always taught her to keep an eye on the sky, but he never said how best to do so. Fiara was a great warrior, and teacher, but Maica still had doubts in her abilities without her father and brother alongside her. Would they laugh at her attempt to crawl on her back across the field? When her life was only about killing dragons it made sense, but now the hand of Man was marching to claim not only the Bluegrass Valley, the Black Army marched to claim her world.

Inching, pushing, sliding. Her hair wet, her back soaked beneath her, she began to crawl faster. Stretching her shoulders to cover more ground. The beautiful night sky was shifting to its scenery of terror. The light was growing, the dragons would arrive soon with the morning sun. Maica broke from her crawl, rising to her feet, she began running directly towards the enemy camp. Time was out.

Orders, and calls began barking from man to man as their new prisoner approached. Archers pulled on bow strings, footmen grabbed ropes, and the cry of a dragon’s morning flight filled Maica’s ears. Roaring with such power she felt the force surround her, unsure of whether the world was shaking or if the roar had simply shook her eyes from inside her skull. Hurtling into the black mist Maica never looked back to see the dragon’s flight.