The rushing of the river was the only sound. The two armies faced each other across the ford, on one side, the fur-clad, feral human tribe, on the other the proud band of Razelim. The human warlord waded through the stream, and climbed on top of a large boulder in the middle of the ford. He grinned at his enemies. He had called this meeting, and so it was held at midday. Some of the vampires wore hooded cloaks, but they showed no other sign of discomfort. The crowd parted and captain Anders strode through, right up to the waterline. His first knight Jules stood behind him, to his right.

"Vampire! I knew you would want to meet," Oswald shouted in his strange, barking accent, and bowed.

"Human," Anders greeted, and bowed slightly less deeply, and without taking his eyes off his enemy.

"I have happy tidings for you, Vampire. Your two warriors are safe and sound, and I, the gracious lord Oswald, am willing to return them to you."

There was a slight rumble from the men behind Anders, and jeering from the opposite side. Anders waited for the noise to die down.

"And what would be the price for your generosity, gracious lord?" he asked sceptically.

Oswald laughed. "Do you know the village of Tottery, Vampire? It's not very large, but it's nearby. I think you should remember the place, considering the defeat you suffered there so recently..."

Oswald grimaced impatiently. "Yes, I know the place, what of it?"

"That shall be the price," Oswald declared triumphantly.

"Don't try our patience, Human," Jules shouted. "You know we never..." He stopped, as Anders had raised his right hand to silence him. The human warlord grinned a yellow-toothed grin.

"Suppose we agree with this," Anders said, "what then?"

"Then we all have something to celebrate," Oswald answered, suddenly sincere. "With land to till and cattle to raise we no longer need to persuade your subjects to help us. All will live in peace. We will be no more trouble to you, and you can leave the swamp for good."

Anders was silent. He ignored the slight whispering behind him.

"Let us end this stalemate, Vampire," the warlord said, not unaware of the effect his words had on the gathered troops. He knew how they hated this place. "This way, we both win, yes?"

A silence fell between them, the rushing water of the ford the only sound. The two armies glared at each other across the water, an accurate metaphore for the endless struggle that had them both trapped.

"A week and a day from now," Anders said finally, "at midnight, you will return here, and you shall have your answer!"

Oswald bowed and Anders simply turned away and disappeared into the crowd. Someone grabbed his arm. Jules.

"You know he will deny you. Again," Jules said. Anders nodded.

"Yes, probably." He shrugged. "Ah, who knows, maybe he'll be in a good mood this century."

Jules smiled sadly.

"Do me a favour Jules; while I'm gone, don't do anything stupid," Anders said.

"Like you did?" Jules asked with a gentle smile.

"Yes," Anders sighed. "Like what I did."

  

It's him.

Oswald.

We don't talk to him.

There's no point.

"My vampire friends! Good evening to you," Oswald mocked. Hengest and Horsa avoided his eyes. They were still bound to the wooden crosses, which were now set up against the wall of what appeared to be the main storage hut. They were surrounded by large jars of flour, corn and dried fruits. There were even some pickled meats and dried fish. Most of it stolen from villages supposedly under protection of the Razelim.

"I have happy news for you," Oswald continued, and when he still got no response, "say, wake up!" He made to smack Horsa in the side of the head, but Horsa snapped at him, and missed his hand by a hair.

Almost, Hengest whispered, smiling slightly.

"Now that I've got your attention," Oswald said, seemingly unmoved. "As I said, I have happy news. Your master is willing to negotiate for your lives."

We don't believe him, Hengest whispered immediately.

"Only problem with that is that I need to make sure you keep these lives of course, or our agreement would be quite meaningless." He smiled brightly, obviously pleased with his own wit.

Remember he said he took no pleasure in our suffering... Hengest said weakly.

We did not believe him then, Horsa answered.

This must be a subtle kind of torture. It could not be true...

We don't listen to him.

Oswald looked from one to the other, but they looked away from him. "So, distasteful as this is, I offer you a choice," he said. They continued to ignore him. "Do you want chicken or lizard?"

We will not play his games, Horsa whispered, and out loud he said, "We would much prefer you, actually."

Oswald smiled thinly. "Chicken, or lizard?" he repeated slowly.

This is how he tries to keep us subdued, Horsa said. As long as we feed, he can

"Chicken," Hengest said hoarsely.

Hengest?

"Chicken it is," Oswald said, and left.

I'm sorry, brother, Hengest whispered, tears running down his already tear-streaked face. I hunger so... I have to feed! I feel like I'm on fire on the inside, like I'll burst apart if we don't...

We know, Horsa answered, and sighed.

We have to feed, Hengest repeated. We have to have blood...

Oswald returned, a live chicken in his arms. One of his men followed with another chicken. They were small, scrawny animals with bald necks and twisted legs.

How can they keep chickens here? Horsa wondered.

Oh, by the blood... Hengest cursed, disgusted. The savage approached and held the chicken against his face, his hand around the beak. The creature stank and the thin, feathered neck was the least appetising thing he'd ever seen. Horsa! he called.

"Trink, vampyr," the man barked impatiently.

Go on. It can't be much worse than the cold sludge you get from the bottle.

Hengest closed his eyes tightly and bit down. This need could not be denied, no matter how disgusted he was. The pitiful creature had little blood to give; he drew it out in a single, big gulp, and screamed mentally.

Great Kain, this is disgusting! Oh, by all the saints… and their mothers! We can't... He retched and coughed, a thin trickle of blood running out of his mouth.

"Don't waste it, vampire," Oswald said threateningly. "You're not getting anything else." Hengest spat on the beams in front of him.

Can you keep it down? Horsa asked.

Hengest groaned and coughed again. I think so, he whispered miserably.

"Human, you will have to feed us real blood if you want us to live," Horsa told Oswald. "We cannot subsist off animals, as you can see."

Oswald flashed a quick smile, and grabbed his chicken by the beak, offering it to Horsa. "I won't fall for your tricks, little vampire," he said. Horsa turned his face away from the smelling bird as far as he could, but Oswald kept pressing the filthy feathers against his cheek.. "Do you remember when we captured the short one with the blonde hair?"

Janis, Hengest offered.

"He lasted two months on chicken," Oswald continued, coldly. "So I think you should eat  now that I'm giving you the chance."

Two months? Horsa exclaimed.

Oh, Janis, oh, Kain's blood! Hengest babbled. Two months! We cannot last two months, Horsa! We cannot last a week on this! We shall go mad, We'll wither like dry fruit! Horsa!

Be calm, Horsa told him. He pushed back his disgust and bit into the flaccid neck; he knew Oswald was serious. He gulped the blood down, and trembled. Ugh, you're right, he told Hengest, that is horrid.

Can we not die of starvation, Horsa? How long before we die of starvation?

Horsa coughed up the last mouthful of blood and splattered Oswald's face. The mortal smiled humourlessly. We can't die of starvation, he said. We would go into a bloodfever first, and then, our bodies would start to warp and decay, but still we would not die. Don't you remember Rudig?

That's just a story, Hengest said, panicked. He was struggling against his restraints, trying in vain to pull free. He's just a story, he's just a story! he shrieked into Horsa's mind.

Stop it!

"Don't count on this too often, vampires," Oswald threatened, and left, the second man in tow.

Oh, Horsa, two months!

Poor Janis, Horsa said darkly.

What about us?

We hope we don't last that long. Horsa strained against his bonds to look at his brother. Hengest was still panicked, his face was tearstreaked and his eyes burned brightly. I'm sorry, my heart, he whispered.