The Last Guardian

  ***

  It was a few weeks after that conversation that a messenger found Aginol and Cornac in the sparring hall, as they pushed their old, creaking bodies through drills.

  “My Anlos,” said the messenger, “Word is brought to you of yet another problem facing the world from the realms of the demons.”

  “Well, what of it?” snarled Aginol, “Why don’t you tell the Calgonites to deal with it?” The messenger waited with his head bowed. They all knew that the word would have gone out to everybody and that the only people with enough backbone to deal with the problem would be them.

  “What is the news?” asked Cornac, gently.

  “A creature of darkness stalks the high places to the north. Many people have gone missing in the night and their corpses are found in the morning drained of all blood. Human prints are found nearby, but they disappear at the feet of cliffs that would be hard to scale even in daylight. The villages there are all but abandoning their land out of fear.”

  “Fools! They mustn’t move. The creature will only follow them. It has been a long while, but this can only mean that another vampire has emerged from whatever hole it has been hiding in. We had better deal with it before it seeks to create more of its kind.”

  “It will be difficult. We are not as strong as we were, and these creatures have had many lifetimes to learn all manner of devious tricks,” Cornac added.

  “We have the eyes of Yanos upon us. Righteousness – and preparation – will prevail.”

  It was many weeks of travelling before they arrived at the afflicted region. The Duskpeak mountains were difficult terrain to traverse. All manner of foul beings had made their homes in this desolate region, hiding in the roots of the mountains. Over the years the Order of Yanos had winkled these bad apples out, and the news of a vampire on the loose was the biggest event in a decade.

  The miserable villages that they now reached were stone-built and slate roofed, and every window and door was hung with a profusion of plants reputed to keep vampires at bay. The odor of mashed garlic, spread over doors and sills, made Aginol raise his brows when still several thousandpace out. His score of followers, clad in mail, helms and padded surcoats, likewise gagged. Their mounts neighed and pawed in complaint. Wrapping a scented cloth over his mouth, he questioned the villagers at length. They directed him to a deep gorge, reputed to contain a system of caverns.

  “That’s a good guess,” said Cornac, sitting on his horse, a silver-flanged mace at his side.

  “No doubt. The old texts make it clear that these creatures like darkness,” muttered Aginol, looking about himself at the motley collection of reeking villagers clustered about him, “you know, some of these people look a good deal sturdier than the walking cadavers that volunteered to join us back home. After we have disposed of this vampire, we should round some of them up and take them back to join the ranks.”

  “What if they don’t want to come, Anlos?” asked a knight to his left.

  “Nonsense. What greater honour than to serve Yanos, and to fight the Good Fight?” Anlos replied dismissively, and they moved on.