Part 7

Shallaeran led her small band through the trees, in pursuit of those who would defile the boundaries of Athel Loren. The six Glade Guardians each held a powerful longbow, and slender knives hung at their belts, their hilts barely visible under their shifting cloaks.

Shallaeran glanced at Imraes, speaking softly. "We approach the enemy."

Imraes slowly took a thin arrow from his quiver and fitted it to the string of his bow. "We strike from the shadows," he said.

Shallaeran nodded, and moved off into the trees. Her heart held nothing but grim determination. The foes of Athel Loren must not be allowed to walk under its boughs. She fitted an arrow to her bowstring, scanning the trees.

A flash of darkness between two distant trees caught her eye, and she signalled to the others. Kimric moved forwards, stepping silently through the forest, bow held ready. He reached a position barely a hundred paces from the unseen foe, and settled into a hollow in the base of a tree.

Shallaeran watched, immobile, as Kimric glanced over the lip of the hollow, arrow nocked and ready to loose. Shallaeran shifted sideways slightly, and caught sight of the enemy, readying her own shot.

They were no beastmen, or marauding Orcs, or even misguided humans. They were elves, or at least, they had been. They moved jerkily, shuffling awkwardly down the thin pathways, desiccated limbs creaking and with each movement. Shallaeran's sharp eyes picked out crawling insects flitting around them, massing around the grievous wounds that each of them possessed. She could see a dozen of the creatures, and more were out of her sight, hidden behind trees and plants.

And then the time for observation was over. Kimric glanced at Shallaeran, a look of silent communication, and loosed his arrow A zombie stumbled backwards, the thin wooden shaft lodged in its skull. Shallaeran suppressed her emotions, and fired. Her arrow streaked between the trees and struck a zombie in the hollow of its throat, snapping its head back and almost throwing it to the floor.

The other Glade Guardians fired, and four more zombies staggered, arrows protruding from their rotting flesh. A ragged chorus of groans echoed hauntingly through the forest. Shallaeran smoothly nocked another arrow, and fired again, in time with Kimric. Two arrows impacted into a zombie's chest with a single wet thump, knocking the animated corpse to the floor.

Imraes was faster than the others, and his arrow took a zombie in its knee as it turned to face the group of Asrai. The corpse dropped heavily to the ground, still trying to walk. Three more arrows lanced out from the trees, and three more zombies fell.

The zombies turned as one to face the Asrai, and began to shamble stiffly towards them. Their movement made it impossible to accurately count their number, but Shallaeran guessed at somewhere close to twenty.

She fired once more, knocking another zombie to the ground. Imraes was barely a second slower, and his arrow thudded home into a zombie's horribly exposed heart. Shallaeran motioned for Kimric to move back with one hand, while selecting an arrow with the other.

The young wood elf nodded almost imperceptibly. He loosed a last arrow and turned. Groans rose from the zombies as they saw the nimble elf running through the trees and the walking corpses sped up, moving with purpose.

Shallaeran cursed under her breath. She should have realised that the zombies would use Kimric as a target to home in on. Ceroch and Mercyl shifted position, moving out to the left, flanking the zombies. Imraes and Rhaelyr moved right, leaving Shallaeran and Kimric in the path of the zombies.

She fired, her arrow streaking over Kimric's shoulder and into a zombie's empty eye socket. The thing's head shattered under the force, and it dropped to the floor. The flankers fired together, four deadly arrows scything down another quartet of shambling corpses.

Kimric reached Shallaeran's position, and whirled, an arrow ready. He fired, and another zombie fell. That left less than a dozen. Shallaeran smiled grimly. The abominations were still twenty paces from the Asrai, and that was more than enough.

The six elves fired as one, and half the zombies fell backwards abruptly. They loosed again, and the remaining corpses were knocked down.

Shallaeran glanced at the others, meeting their eyes, a silent look of acknowledgement passing between them. She turned, and began to walk slowly into the forest, heading for the halls of her Kinband. Lord Helioran would need to be informed of this new threat.

And then Imraes flew backwards into the bole of a tree with a gut-wrenching smack. Blood flew as the Asrai dropped limply to the floor, a massive wound across his chest.

Terror reared its icy head as Shallaeran dived behind a tree, looking around to try to locate whatever it was that had just killed Imraes. She had an arrow readied instinctively, and the others followed her example, scrambling behind whatever cover they could find. Shallaeran scanned the trees, but she could see nothing.

A black shadow darted from nowhere, faster than should have been possible, and eviscerated Rhaelyr where he stood, a huge blade tearing the Asrai in two at the waist. The elf did not have time to scream. Blood arced into the air, as the shadow seemed to vanish, moving with preternatural speed.

Ceroch sighted the enemy, and loosed an arrow. The shaft hit its target, striking home with a sharp snap. Not a sound came from the enemy as it charged at Ceroch, its blade descending upon the elf in a dark blur. The sword cleaved into Ceroch with a sickening crunch, and the Asrai dropped to the floor.

Shallaeran tracked the creature, bowstring pulled back to her ear. Mercyl drew her blade and leapt at the foe, striking sinuously with the long knife. The creature dodged each blow, moving so fast it seemed to blur around the Asrai's strikes.

Shallaeran loosed her arrow, and the shaft flew through the air to thud into the centre of the creature's back. The thin arrowhead pierced the armour with a snap, but the creature barely seemed to notice.

Kimric fired straight after, and his arrow took the creature in the side of its head. The thing whirled, lashing out with its weapon and hacking deep into Mercyl's stomach. She flew backwards, screaming.

The creature looked at Shallaeran and Kimric, rage burning in its eyes. She studied it unwillingly, and the realisation hit her. Vampire! It reached up and swiftly withdrew the arrow from its head, casting the shaft to the floor.

Her arrow smashed into its chest with a smack, staggering the unprepared vampire, and Kimric's followed, hitting it in the hollow of its throat. She nocked another arrow as it staggered.

The vampire straightened, and then it moved.

It seemed to appear in front of Kimric, crossing the distance in an instant. It lashed out with its blade, and Kimric's head fell from his shoulders silently. Blood sprayed high into the air, filling the forest with its stench.

Icy terror coursed through Shallaeran's veins as she faced the vampire. It had once been human, years ago. Now, though, it was an abomination, clad in extravagantly-worked black armour dripping with the blood of her companions.

"Time to die, little elf," it snarled, and raised its sword.

She closed her eyes and released the arrow she was holding. The twang of the bowstring echoed through the trees, followed immediately by the snap-thud of the arrow hitting home. Silence descended upon the forest.

Tentatively, Shallaeran opened her eyes. The vampire stood transfixed, the wooden shaft of her arrow protruding from its heart. It looked down slowly, in disbelief. The sword dropped from its fingers. Its mouth moved slowly.

"What have you done?" it whispered. "This cannot happen to me. It cannot. I am a servant of the Lord of Blood. I cannot die."

Blood trickled from the corners of its mouth, and the vampire fell to the floor. It began to shrivel before her eyes, the ravages of time coursing through the creature in moments. Within a minute, all that remained was ashes.

Sorrow filled her heart as Shallaeran looked at the corpses of the Asrai, littered about the forest. She left them untouched as she walked slowly, warily, back to the halls of her kin. Though the threat was vanquished for now, she had no doubts that it would return.

Part 8

Shallaeran stood before Lord Helioran, clad in fresh robes. The Asrai highborn, leader of Shallaeran's kinband, sat on a twisting throne formed out of the living roots of a great tree.

The tree itself made up the towering, arched roof of the hidden hall, and its massive roots spread downwards, forming curving pillars and beams, emerging from the floor of the hall to make benches and tables. The hall was coloured in the vibrant reds and browns of autumn, the floor made of fallen leaves and soft grasses. Illumination shone from a large blazing pile of deadwood in the centre of the hall, casting its flickering light over the assembled Wood Elves.

"What have you to report, Shallaeran Nihsurae?" asked Helioran. His unbound hair fell over his shoulder in a dark wave as he leaned forwards expectantly.

Shallaeran swallowed, trying not to show her sorrow. To do so would be undignified. "A new enemy has turned its attentions upon Athel Loren, Lord Helioran. I and a band of five other Glade Guardians came across this foe scant hours ago, in the forests to the east. I-" She swallowed. "I am the only survivor."

His eyes were hard as Helioran looked at her. "What was the nature of this foe, Shallaeran Nihsurae?"

"The dead walk the forests once more, Lord."

A chorus of uneasy murmurs rippled through the Asrai behind Shallaeran. The undead had last been encountered under the dread Lichemaster, Heinrich Kemmler, and had only been fought off at great cost to the forest, and to the Asrai. That they would return once more boded ill for the coming winter.

"Did the Lichemaster accompany them, Shallaeran? Is this blight returned to us again?" asked Helioran. His grip tightened upon the arms of his living throne.

Shallaeran shook her head. "No, Lord. They were led by the infernal revenants, those who would drain all life from the world to feed their immortal hunger." She shuddered.

"Vampires." Helioran almost spat the word.

"Yes Lord. The blood hunters enter the forest. I have slain one of their dark brotherhood, but I fear it was only a thrall. It killed my companions before my eyes, and it was only due to a lucky bowshot that I escaped." She shook, trying to hold in her grief at the memories that flooded her mind.

The blood, the stench of death that chocked her nostrils, assailed her mind. The arcing blade of the creature's sword cut through her mind, exposing her terror. And through it all, those horrible eyes burning into her as it stared, and then its voice, grating smoothly over her.

"Time to die, little elf."

She was brought back to reality by the sound of Helioran's voice. "You have accomplished much, Shallaeran Nihsurae. To slay even a thrall of such beings is no easy feat, for they are possessed of strength and speed beyond that of mortal races, even amongst the Elves."

She nodded, blinking away the burning in her eyes. "Thank you, Lord Helioran."

"You may leave now, Shallaeran. You have done well, and a little rest is deserved. Go. You will be summoned if you are needed further." Helioran's voice was soft, and he gestured towards the exit of the hall with one hand.

Shallaeran nodded, and made for the exit. The highborn of the kinband would deliberate over the threat, and a solution would be reached. One always was.

Shallaeran had no idea what it could be, though.

Gorthek looked up from his ale as the door of the inn was pushed open. Through it stepped a ranger, clad in a stout leather jerkin and holding a crossbow. His face was flushed, and Gorthek could tell he had been running.

"Is Gorthek the Slayer in this inn?" called the ranger, breathlessly.

Gorthek stood. "Aye, he is. Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

The ranger looked Gorthek over. "You're summoned before King Thorlek. Something about a Vampire."

Gorthek drained the last of his ale, cheap stuff at best, nothing like the bugmans he had missed, and walked over to the ranger. "When and where?" he growled.

"Hold up, Slayer," said the ranger. "I don't know. I was just told to summon ya."

Gorthek just looked at him. "I meant the King, you wazzock."

"Well ya should ha' been clearer then! Now, and in the Great Hall. Get moving."

The ranger broke off into grumbling about 'bloody slayers', while Gorthek dashed past him. It wasn't in his nature to run anywhere, but he thought this occasion warranted a bit of haste.

After a good ten minutes of running, he made it to the Great Hall. He burst through the doors, red-faced, and sketched a quick bow. He wasted no time in addressing the King.

"So what's this about the Vampire then?"

King Thorlek looked up at the Slayer. "I know you are a Slayer, Gorthek Axehand, but I expect at least a semblance of order in my Hall. You are trying my patience, and since you are presently relying on my hospitality, I would advise against testing me further."

Gorthek shuffled slightly. "My question stands, King Thorlek."

The King looked at the Slayer wearily. "Bloody Slayers…" he murmured under his breath, and then raised his voice.

"The Zangunaz has been sighted moving north at incredible speeds. He moves through the mountain passes, covering a mile every score of minutes. It was pure luck that a party of Rangers saw him, and brought the news back here."

Gorthek set his jaw grimly. "I will pursue the monster, King Thorlek. As much as it pains me to leave Khazad Vulkhrund behind me, I cannot let the Vampire escape."

Thorlek glanced at the thane beside him. Gorthek saw that the thane was outfitted for war, in full leathers, and held a rune-etched hammer at his waist.

"Thane Korgan will accompany you, along with a force of his clansmen." Thorlek held a hand up as Gorthek started to open his mouth. "Don't protest. It would be a waste of breath. I'm sending them, and if you don't like it, then tough."

Gorthek grumbled under his breath, then said, "Why? I am a Slayer. I fight alone."

Korgan stepped forwards. "Yes, you do, Slayer. I'm there so that if you mess up in your lone fight, the vampire still dies."

Gorthek sighed. There was no way of getting rid of the thane. He knew he shouldn't get himself involved with Kings. Still, he thought, at least the vampire would die.

Thorlek waved a hand towards the doors. "Now go, both of you. I want you out of this Hold by tomorrow. And don't come back without the head of that vampire."