A/N I don't own TB, or any of the characters. I've just taken a few of them out of the box. If there's interest in the Viking's story I'll continue.

Eric's Fate

Chapter One

Out of the sea mist a large dark shape approached. Silent but for the muffled creak of straining ropes and the rhythmic splash of oars the ship approached the shore, running straight up the sandy beach. From it's guts spilled a group of men dressed in furs and metal armor, to quickly secure the vessel.

One of them, a tall blonde youth of sixteen summers, stopped at the water's edge to take a better look at his surroundings. The beach was in a bay that was surrounded by low hills, and seemed completely deserted. Olaf, his father's scout, had chosen their landing well.

Twelve men ran up the beach, following the directions given to them by the scout. On the other side of the hill they expected to find a small group of homes, clustered together for some little security that would offer from wild animals or bandits. In these tough times men took whatever steps they could to protect their homes and families.

This was Eric's first raid, he was eager, nervous and excited all at once. His father had only allowed him to come when his older brother had fallen ill, and he wanted to prove that he was up to the job. Eric's father, Egil, owned the warship now beached behind them. It was the finest ship built by the Norse in at least a generation, and had been won in battle over a year ago. Apparently the finest ship did not come with the finest sea men. This was the first time it had been sent raiding.

Across the lose shale which made running both difficult and noisy the raiding party reached the grassy slope. As leader Eric led the group up the incline, at his side was Ulrich, a grizzled old veteran who had been sent to keep the boy out of harm. Without a sound the others followed in two files, gripping weapons and shields to prevent any chinks or rattles. No point in alerting the locals to the trouble that had found them.

Atop the hill the group crouched and ran low, so as not to present a silhouette against the night sky. The needn't have bothered as the village had posted no watchmen. Behind Eric followed Trausti, the good looking poet who had come to see battle at first hand. Egil had insisted the poet be able to handle a blade before agreeing to let him come.

Six houses. Constructed of dirt and timber then roofed with thatch nestled together at the foot of the hill, along the side of a stream that shone silver in the moonlight. Eric noted that there were no defenses, neither palisade nor rampart, nothing. He grinned at Ulrich who patted him on the arm.

"Shall we?" he asked his comrades.

Without a word they split up, two for each house. Still there was no sound of alarm, no panic. Eric noticed now that they were up close that there was no smoke coming from the chimneys, no animal noise from inside. Something was amiss here. He might never have been on a raid before, but he had crept home late at night from Sookie Sturlusson's place.

He held up a hand, palm flat. Around the homes all eyes waited for his next order. Eric felt no shame in consulting Ulrich first.

"There are no fires, no animals, no people noises," he told the big old warrior. "Something is amiss here."

"Noted. Pass the order to wait at the ready, you and I will check the first house," Ulrich agreed.

Silently the order was passed. Eric could feel the tension as the men seemed to hold their breath, lest it give them away. He tried the door to the nearest house, found it open. With a push it swung inwards to reveal a sight that was nothing like what they had expected.

Inside the house was one long room, even in the dark Eric could see that they were not the first to visit this place with bad intention.

One older man lay over the hearth, his throat ripped out. Behind him a woman lay on her back, glazed eyes staring at the ceiling. Eric noted the smaller bodies huddled together at the far side of the room with distaste. He had no time for child killers.

At once Ulrich was out in the open, barking orders. Every house was entered, forcefully. Every man in the raiding party found sights similar to those that had awaited in the first house. The stench of blood and death hung heavy in the air. Someone had been here before them and slaughtered these people.

From the furthest dwelling Grettir, the acknowledged healer in the group shouted a warning to the others. He hoped he wasn't too late.

"Vampires!"

In front of Eric a shadow moved, with tremendous speed, straight at him. Reflexes kicked in after years of sword training, and Eric got the huge two handed sword that he carried up before the thing took hold of him. The blade that had been a gift from his father was too large for this kind of fighting, but he managed a sharp rap on the vampire's forehead with the hilt as it closed. It reeled and took a step back, just enough for Eric to plunge his sword down into the thing's chest cavity. Bursting back out of it again from the small of it's back.

From beside him Ulrich took the thing's head off with one vicious cut.

Eric expected to hear sounds of fighting from all around, but there was nothing but stillness. This vampire appeared to be alone. Knowing what he did about the creatures of the night Eric called the war band together. They would stay in this house until dawn.

He hoped the men who had stayed with the boat were okay. There was no way of knowing, and no way of warning them.

"Some scout you are?" he mocked Olaf when everyone was together.

"Sorry, forgot to mention the vampires," Olaf answered, laughing nervously.

"What do we do now?" Trausti the poet asked.

"We wait for sun up, can't be more than a couple of hours away," Eric told them.

Pale sunlight spilled over the hill, illuminating the miserable scene for the raiders. In every house a dead family, but it looked as if the vampire had taken his time, fed on them as he needed to. How he could have managed this alone none of them could guess, but in each house the bodies were in several states of decay.

With Ulrich at his side Eric checked every house. All of these people's possessions were still in place, but there would be no good luck attached to anything these unfortunate people owned. It was Eric who decided to torch them as they had found them, removing nothing.

There would be other raids, he hoped there would not be other vampires.

From what little they knew of the creatures they guessed that the vampire had been familiar enough with the victims. He had moved freely in and out of their homes. Eric shuddered as he considered the death that all of these people had found. Of course they would be dead by now anyway if the raiding party had attacked.

Sweating and confused Eric struggled out of the nightmare that he was waking from. It was the same as all the other times, the slaughtered village, the dead children. The vampire.

At his side Sookie Sturlusson was awake, studying her lover intently. She knew he was dreaming about the first raid again, and about the first time he had met a vampire, four years before.

For his sake she hoped he would never meet another.