Blinking a few times, Turel opened his eyes, looking around the Shayliak forest with the confusion of a new-born.
Gods, was he that exhausted that he had began to drift off into sleep thanks to the soothing rocking of his faithful horse? The poor animal twisted his head and snorted at his master with distaste. I'm tired too, he seemed to say. But I'm staying awake so I can take your useless behind back to the house.
"I understand, and I'm truly sorry," Turel whispered to the horse, giving the beast a gentle stroke behind the ear before he kicked him lightly and the steed sped up again, crunching twigs and leaves underneath his powerful hooves. "It's not a long journey now, Cassius. You've served me well today my friend. When we get to the house, I promise you a whole barrel of fresh water and hay."
The horse, a seven year old purebreed who Turel affectionately named Cassius, loudly nayed in response, apparently pleased wth the promise of his reward. Turel smiled and patted the horse again before straightening himself up, breathing in and out deeply in an effort to regain a little energy. The night had been a tiring one for both himself and Cassius, and the house was still several kilometres away, despite of what he'd promised the horse.
It didn't help, either, that Shayliak forest was such an isolated and sleepy place. The trees were so tall that they blocked out almost all sunlight, which didn't do wonders for the Sarafan Priests' current state.
The battle had been long. It had lasted almost twelve hours, those damned fledgling vampires appearing to be stronger every time the Sarafan challenged a new clan. Still, they were all left decapitated and defeated, since Turel was a most capable executor, and his Sarafan brothers were hardly novices either. But the early morning sun did play a significant part in their battle against the vermin by quietly burning the pesky survivors with it's morning rays.
Turel had prayed, he had been thankful.
But now, as thankful as he was, his main priority was rest.
Which was exactly why he had almost missed her.
"Cassius, halt!" The horse gave a deafening roar as Turel tugged at his reigns not too gently, causing the stallion to stop dead in his tracks. He surprisingly hadn't noticed what his owner had, but did enjoy the temporarily relief on his back when Turel suddenly brought his right leg round in one swift motion, and quickly jumped off the beast.
He could see her, but only barely.
From a distance, apart from her gender, distinguishing anything else was impossible, which was why Turel approached carefully, one hand already toying with the knife strapped to his belt, just in case this lump of skirts and hoods proved out to be dangerous.
"You there, in the woods," Turel cried out, his movements no longer lethargic and his eyes now were wide and alert. He had to be aware of danger at all times. In a land swarming with vampire vermin, anything and everything was a potential danger, skirts or not. "What are you doing here? What is your name?"
The woman barely moved and as Turel came closer, he began to realise that the 'woman' was hardly that, and could not have been over the age of eighteen, and was clearly absolutely terrified of him.
He sighed in relief and relaxed his grip on his sword. She was filthy and her clothes were torn, but the girl was obviously human and hardly posed a threat.
"Please... please help me," Turel almost dismissed the tiny voice as a gust of wind, she spoke so quietly. As he approached her and pushed the heavy tree branches out of the way in order to see her better, Turel's eyes widened a little in sympathy. It was no wonder that the girl hadn't ran when she heard him approach, her ankle was broken and by the looks of it, she had used up her last bout of energy to drag herself into this little self-made hiding place.
Of course, no vampire was foolish enough to ignore the smell of blood from dozens of little cuts across her face and lower legs. She was lucky to be alive and extremely lucky to have encountered one of the Sarafan Priests, and not one of the merciless fledgling vampires.
"I can't even begin to explain to you how lucky are not to be a corpse right now," Turel sighed, crouching as close to the girl as he possibly could in order to lift her. Being a one-man rescue team was hardly part of his job description but Turel could not bring himself to leave this girl here to die. He killed vampires to save the humans, after all, and leaving this girl here to die was completely against his morals. Plus, he wouldn't ever grant his enemies the gift of an injured young girl. He knew that those savages would literally rip her to shreds.
"Wrap your arms around my neck and I wil lift you. Be careful."
She was cautious, Turel could see that clearly, but she also knew that this stranger was her only hope so the girl carefully lifted her arms and slipped her hands around his neck, lightly linking her fingers together. The priest prepared himself for a heavy lift, but the only struggle came with fighting off the branches that insisted on whipping him in the face. The girl hardly weighed anything at all and she must have been at least a foot shorter than him, so even in his exhausted state, Turel had absolutely no trouble carrying her over to the horse.
"I'm so happy you are here, so happy," the girl mumbled, her arms slowly sliding from Turel's neck. She leaned against his metal armour as if it was the most comfortable thing and for the first time, Turel took a moment to examine her face. It was covered in dirt and cuts, and a heavy hood hung over her eyes so he couldn't even tell the colour of her hair. Only her lips and the tip of her nose were visible, and whilst Turel really had no opinions on noses, he did recognise her full lips as being very appealing. Not that it mattered to him personally since he was a celibate priest and took his work very seriously, but he could imagine that many men would certainly enjoy kissing those lips first thing in the morning.
"I have been here for so many days. I've lost count," she continued to mumble, her cheek now squashed against the armour of Turel's shoulder. "I thought that I would die tonight. I'm so happy you're here."
Turel said nothing as he carefully placed the girl on top of Cassius, who seemed somewhat agitated at having more extra weight on him once his master had climbed on as well. Turel's main concern now was the girl, however, and making sure that she wouldn't fall on their journey. She was weak, he could tell, and as soon as he pushed himself closer to her and allowed her to lean her back against his chest, she practically collapsed against him and her quiet whispers eventually stopped as she began to drift into sleep.
The girl was exhausted and for once, Turel felt an unusual rush of sympathy. He wasn't a cruel man by any means but his lack of empathy was well-known and well-understood amongst his closest friends, the other Sarafan priests. Turel had little time for civilians. They were careless and often got themselves into trouble, which was exactly what this girl had done, but this one time, he wasn't angry with her.
Maybe it was because she was so weak, and so small. Turel could hear the loud rumbling of her stomach and realised that she hadn't eaten for days. She was almost like a child in her size, and the way she leaned into him now, rocked into a deep sleep. He felt an unusual, almost paternal urge to protect the girl.
The rest of the journey wasn't as comfortable as Turel would have liked and took almost twice as long, but they finally got there in the end.
The girl had woken several times in a panic but almost instantly fallen back into a light sleep when she saw the familiarity of Turel's face. He found it somewhat amusing that she clearly felt safe with him, and they had yet to exchange names. It was a foolish move since he could have been absolutely anybody, but luckily for her he was a respectable Sarafan Priest.
"Girl," Turel mumbled awkwardly, gently moving his shoulder to try and wake the young woman without too much pressure. It was hardly polite but when she opened her eyes and stared straight into his, she didn't seem particularly offended. "We are at my home. Your ankle is broken so I will carry you and there my helper Zaida will help you."
The girl forced a smile and mouthed 'thank you' before sitting up and allowing her mysterious saviour to slide off the horse first before he took her in his arms again and walked with her to the house.
Turel could sense her curiosity as for the first time since their meeting, she raised her head, alert. His home was impressive by civilian standards, he knew that and he certainly never complained. It was a spacious, wooden two floored house that stood on the outskirts of Nosgoth. The garden was colourful and both the inside and outside of the house was well-kept and always clean. This wasn't Turel's doing of course, but 65-year old Zaida, who acted both as his cleaner and his cook did a wonderful job and the Sarafan priest paid her generously. She was a good woker, and a reliable friend and even though his only connections with her came from this professional relationship, it was still nice for the old woman to greet him every time he came home.
Today, however, Zaida's usually smiling mouth twisted into a surprised 'o' when her employer nudged open the door with his back and burst in with a young woman clinging onto his neck.
"Lord Turel!" Zaida exclaimed, rushing to her feet and quickly moving to her employer. "What happened?"
Turel's expression remained blank as he walked with the girl towards the only comfortable seat in his living area and gently sat her down there. The seat was always exclusively his as it was perfectly situated in front of a nice, warm fire, but on this occasion Turel felt like he could make an exception.
"You need to get this girl cleaned up, Zaida. She is injured and starving and filthy," Turel explained, his eyes drifting back to the young woman now, and she was gazing up at him with utter adoration. "After feeding her, please help her bathe. For now I will eat and clean myself. Let me deal with her injuries."
Zaida nodded vigorously, still clearly in shock, but obeyed Turel's wishes and plodded off into the kitchen. Food would be first and thankfully she had already cooked, and judging by the state of the girl, a bowl of warm thick broth and a chunk of fresh bread would be very welcome.
Turel was ready to follow her too, but a small hand suddenly grabbing his fingertips made him stop dead in his tracks and look down to the girl again.
"You are Lord Turel?" she asked in a quiet, timid voice as she pushed away the hood of her cloak with her free hand.
So you're a brunette, Turel thought as dark brown curls fell over her shoulders.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't know... I don't mean to be such an inconvenience to you, I understand that you must be very bu-"
"Please, stop," Turel interrupted the guilty rant and held up both hands. "I wouldn't have just left you. But I am Turel, yes. To call me 'lord' isn't necessary."
It wasn't a surprise that she knew him by name, he was a local celebrity, just like his fellow priests. They were loved and respected and whilst not many could recognise them by face, everyone in the land knew the names of the top warriors of the Sarafan priests.
"What is your name? And what on earth happened to you?"
The girl blushed, he could see it even under the dirt covering her face. Turel wondered for a moment, what she would look like without the dirt and the blood, and whether or not she would be pretty, but he quickly forced that thought away. He was a Sarafan priest. He had codes and morals and out of all of the priests, he had probably been the most loyal.
"My name is Selena," the brunette whispered and Turel could see her eyes already filling with tears. "I am from Rakhan, it's a small village on the other side of the forests. There are only twelve or fourteen houses there, including my fathers. We... we were..." she paused and inhaled deeply as tears began to streak her cheeks, revealing the sun-kissed skin underneath. She was not from a rich family, she was a worker. "...we were attacked. Fledgling vampires, so many of them. We tried to escape but I lost everyone. I ran into the forest and I lost everyone. For four nights I heard screams and I ran and ran as much as I could. I think everyone is dead."
A silence pressed over them for several minutes and only Selena's quiet sobbing could be heard.
Turel examined her but didn't crouch down next to the girl, unsure of how exactly to comfort her. She had guessed correctly, everyone was dead. The attack on Rakhan happened four nights ago and the fledging heathens had burnt down the entire village and murdered practically everyone. Three or four people managed to get away but if like this girl they had sought solace in the unforgiving Shayliak, Turel truly doubted they they would be alive now. He had not been in Rakhan himself, but Raziel and Dumah had lead a strong army there. It was a surprise attack and unfortunately several of their men were lost, but the Sarafan stil came out victorious. Not one of those bastards had a heart intact by the end of the battle.
"Here, here!"
It was Zaida who eventually broke the silence. She rushed into the room with a bowl of broth and a chunk of bread, the smell of which stopped Selena's tears for a moment. She was so hungry, the echoes of her rumbling stomach could be heard throughout the entire house.
"Lord Turel, yours is on the table. I will help the girl bathe, then call you and tend to Cassius."
Turel nodded positive and looked down at the girl again, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. The poor child had lost her home, everyone she knew and probably her entire family. On occasion, the Sarafan's methods were criticised but on days like this, Turel felt no remorse. Those bastards destroyed lives.