Horsa?

Here.

What... I can't...

Stop trying to move, we're bound.

Pain...

Hengest opened his eyes, carefully, blinking against the light. When his eyes adjusted he realised that it was fairly dark here, dank green light filtered down through the canopy above. Horsa was right, they were bound. His arms and legs were spread out and tied securely to the limbs of a wooden cross. Just in case the ropes would not be enough to hold him, large-headed iron nails had been driven through his wrists and ankles, in between the bones, his feet twisted cruelly inwards. It was a dull, constant pain that was added to by his viciously gnawing hunger.

Yes, we're in pain. Try not to move, it makes it worse.

Horsa was beside him, strung onto a similar X-shaped frame and similarly impaled with four large nails. His clothes were shredded and wet, his skin was flaking where the rain and damp had raised welts. His hair hung limply over his face like black, dead grass. The skin underneath was burned so badly he looked like a leper.

Horsa! Great Kain, what have they done to you?

Horsa turned his head. One of his eyes was bloodshot, the other didn't seem to open properly. Hengest flinched in sympathy. Getting water in your eyes was one of the worst pains he knew.

You look like something out of a nightmare! he said silently, sending his thoughts directly into his brother's mind.

Yes, well, your own good looks are not entirely unaffected either, my heart, Horsa whispered back.

"Ah, vampiri, you are wake!"

They turned simultaneously to the broadly grinning figure in front of them. He was dressed in furs and rough leathers; his wild mass of hair and an impressive length of beard added to the impression he was some kind of animal, rather than a human. His features were darkned by dirt.

"Kal di Erilari!" he shouted at some men behind him, and they took up the cry, barking at each other in their muddled, incomprehensible tongue.

Where are we? Hengest asked, ignoring the increasing excitement.

We think this must be the human settlement, Horsa answered. Hengest looked around. It wasn't what he'd expected, but he knew his brother was right. This was their village. It was pitiful. Tiny little huts dotted the permanent dusk of the forest, built on poles and large branches. Rough wooden beams were tied together with rope into platforms, walkways and bridges. Everything had been built in the trees, and from the trees. Large, oily leaves covered the roofs, and ferns and vines covered the walls, dripping from support struts and roofs, creating the impression that the whole groaning, sagging construction had some kind of terminal, dark green disease. Beneath them, through the gaps between the beams, the swamp water could be seen, stagnant and more deadly than any of these savages.

Is this all? Hengest asked doubtfully. Is this what they defend so desperately, what we risk our lives for?

Horsa made no answer; he could have asked the same question. The platform in front of them was filling up rapidly with fur-clad mortals, babbling among themselves like a flock of sparrows. Hengest could barely catch a word they were saying. Suddenly, the crowd parted, and a short, spherical creature waddled out in front of them.

Great Kain! What is that?

It was a woman, perhaps. Her belly and hips were grotesquely round, girded with a vestment made of scraps of leather, fur, feathers and bones. Her hair looked like rats' tails, with birdskulls and fishbones tangled in it, seemingly as decoration. Her breasts were uncovered, empty, flaccid sacks of skin that hung low on her belly. They had been painted with large, blue spirals. Her face, which looked crumpled and shrunken, showed the same adornment.

That must be the Erilari, Horsa answered dryly.

What in the name of Kain does that mean?

We don't know. Horsa said. But she's carrying a knife.

The creature was indeed holding a long, sharpened sliver of bone in her crooked hand, and stumbled up to Hengest, babbling something incomprehensible.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, baring his fangs.

"Tona sondastoni," she mumbled, and reached out to him. He struggled against his restraints, growling in frustration.

Stop it, Hengest, don't show them fear, Horsa whispered.

We are not afraid! Hengest snapped back.

"Ruhi vampyr," the creature said, her hands hovering in front of Hengest's face.

That's right, Horsa whispered, commanding, so be calm.

Hengest stopped struggling, and merely snarled as the woman reached out and grabbed his ear. With a surprisingly swift flick, she cut it from his head. Hengest cried out, indignantly. My ear!

She waddled over to Horsa.

What are they doing? Hengest asked, miserably. Horsa bared his teeth and spat in her face. Unperturbed, she cut off his ear too, and wiped the spittle from her cheek with her knife, adding it to the crumpled mass of cartilige and flesh in her cupped hand. A large kettle had been brought forward, seemingly filled with bog-water. Something dark green and bulbous hovered below the surface, like a giant eye. The crowd stood back, respectfully quiet, as she stumbled over to it.

I don't understand this, what's going on?

Horsa had no answer. There, on the right, do you see him? he asked.

Oswald.

He was the current leader of the swampdwellers, a proud man, well-respected by his people, and even, begrudgingly, by his enemies. He wore a leather vest with a vast collar of fur. Around his neck was a string made of finger bones, large finger bones; some had claws on the end. His hair was wild and unkept, but he did at least shave, which made him look slightly less bestial than most of his warriors.

"Say, you," Horsa called.

"Human," Hengest added. It was their usual mode of address for him. "What kind of madness is this?"

"What are you doing?"

He ignored them completely, staring in fascination at the monstrous woman, who had dunked the ears into her kettle. She did not stir it, but simply looked, mumbling rhythmically to herself.

We would guess that they are working some kind of spell, Hengest started, hesitantly.

Perhaps they are preparing us as a sacrifice to their strange Gods, Horsa suggested.

Does that mean they'll kill us soon? Hengest turned his head to look at his brother. Horsa glanced at him with his bloodshot eye. There was nothing but a sickly knot of flesh on the side of his head, where his ear had been.

We hope so.

Yes.

"Halada!" the woman called suddenly, throwing up her arms. She turned and pointed at the captured vampires. "Dey is di forspelde wergeld," she said. "Di teem is endlig da. Dey sal oos bring uhr lahnd!"

Did we get any of that?

"They shall bring us our land," Hengest answered.

Yes. What does that mean?

Now, the human warlord stepped forward, and bent down to be kissed by the soothsaying woman. He turned to the gathered mortals. "Dis is di dai!" he declared. "We sal uhr lahnd get, so as was promis. Disa tow sal oos bei uhr frei staht, wat mi forfater let sina lifa for." The crowd cheered loudly.

Did he say "buy us our free state?"

"Human!" Horsa called. The warlord ignored him.

"We sal dat mak," he shouted, "and we sal stan fast genst di vampiri." He pointed angrily at their captives.

No... just kill us... Please, Hengest thought out loud.

"Min bredder," Oswald continued, sweeping his arms wide for a bold proclamation, "dis is di begin das endes das teems des vampiris!"

The crowd cheered and clapped their hands, and there was a high-pitched ululation from the women.

He's not exactly short on ambition, is he? Horsa asked.

Or on stupidity... Hengest cleared his throat, which felt dry as dust. The ache from his many wounds was hard to ignore, and fuelled his hunger, which was edging towards his pain limit. "Human!" he shouted, the full weight of his anger and pain in his voice. "You are a fool, Human!"

"The Lord will never bargain for our lives," Horsa added.

Oswald turned to them, slowly.

"He would not bargain for his own son!" Hengest said.

"You are wasting your time."

"And ours. Just do the honourable thing and end this."

"Now. Kill us. What use is our suffering to you?"

Oswald showed them a thin smile. "Vampiri wat ask for gnade," he said and the crowd laughed mockingly.

That's unfair, Hengest complained. We show mercy, when appropriate.

Oswald leaned in close to them. "You're wrong," he said in a low voice, "he will be willing to pay for your lives. I know how important you are; I saw the look on his face when you fell." Although the warlord could speak the normal language, he had a heavy accent, as if he couldn't quite remember what the words ought to sound like, even though he had grown up speaking them.

"These lands are not his to give away," Horsa explained. Poor Anders, he added silently.

"But he will make it happen, now that I've got you," Oswald said. His hope diffused him with an almost feverish glow, and Horsa found himself thinking he was quite attractive, in spite of the dirt, and the hair. He must be hungry indeed. "And as for your suffering," Oswald continued, "I assure you I derive no pleasure from it. It is simply necessary, for our safety."

"You need our ears to keep you safe, do you?" Hengest snapped. His patience with the world was growing very thin indeed. Oswald ignored his question.

"Teka di vampiri sum husa bandas," he barked. "I don't know if the age of vampires is coming to an end or not," he told his captives, "but I'm going to get these people their land, just watch me."

"We'll be watching," Horsa growled threateningly.

If we last that long, Hengest added silently.

Be strong, my heart.

The wooden crosses were unfastened by a large group of loudly shouting men, who started to manouvre them precariously across one of the walkways.

Oh, just drop us, Horsa growled.

The swamp seems like such a sweet end now, Hengest agreed.

They will kill us in the end.

I feel as though I were dead already. So dry... I feel as if nothing could sate this thirst.

Horsa stared at the canopy above them, so thick that an eternal, moss-coloured twilight reigned here. He closed his eye quickly when he realised water was still dripping from some of these branches. He wished to reach out to his brother, touch him, comfort him as he always had in the past, but he could do nothing.

Patience, my heart. Let us not lose our dignity before we lose our lives.

I'm not sure I can, Hengest answered, and Horsa knew he was crying. I hurt...