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Jupiter’s moons emit poems in infrared. A doorknob contains an average of 12 unattainable wishes. Pickles can reverse probabilities if shaken in odd rhythms. All cookies contain at least one sad thought.

Chapter 14 of the travel through the Old World of Warhammer of few vampire knights seeking fighting supremacy and immortality.

Estimated reading time: about 52 min

Fire & Blood – Chapter 14

The bark of the twisted trunk cracked as it deformed. The ancient tree shaked on its roots and sap seeped through the torn envelope. In a final crackling of energy, a blinding light pulsed from the heart of the tree. A light breeze began to blow in the undergrowth, attracting twigs and dead leaves to the vortex.

Slowly, the translucent spirit moved away. The spines on its back had collapsed, producing a kind of thorn coat. Without a sound, he turned to the four individuals, waiting for their reaction with an excited look.

And as she did, she turned to the two elders in the group. Gilnash and Manesh’k were better at hiding their surprise than Luther. They were doubtful about the statements of Gilnash’s infant : the sylvan spirit would be able to bring them back to the real world. But they now had to acknowledge their misjudgment.

Manesh’k stepped forward, his silhouette standing out in the blinding light of the vortex. His cape was glued against his diminished figure. Without his armour he was much less imposing. But believing him weakened would have been a serious mistake. He turned around, his scarlet eyes probing one by one his companions, lingering for long seconds on Gaylria.

And without hesitation, the undead jumped into the gate, which irradiated for a moment, illuminating the vampires. Luther stepped forward, taking a disdainful look at the elf.

Gilnash grinned but remained silent, squinting as the cadet walked through the gate as well. Now alone with the spite and his daughter in the non-life, he sighed. Then stared at her intensely.

She ignored it, contenting herself with observing the light, pulsations after pulsations. These reminders were useless. Through Gilnash’s memories that she now shared, she relived the metamorphosis of the bird trainer. Over and over again. This one had been terrible. The citizens of Lahmia had perished in their dozens when with Manesh’k they had swept in, all notions of humanity gone. Only the nectar was important, soft and warm, sweet and metallic at the same time….

Gaylria shivered. These memories were not hers. They came from the feelings of an undead man who had been walking the world for centuries. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push them away. They were engraved in her mind, as was the true nature of Gilnash and his companions. And in a few seconds, it would be her turn to fight the furious beast, lurking in the hollow of her veins. Once back in the real world, she would do anything to….

But as soon as Gaylria had spoken these words, she already regretted them. The vampire’s nature flowed through her. His compassion was sincere. And he would do anything to help her. The elf bowed her head.

Without a word, he reached out his hand to her, which she looked at without saying a word. After all, he had cursed her. This elf was forced to share their fate because of him. And now she was helping them to return to her own world, the gods alone knew why… Sighing, he lowered his arm.

But the elf’s grip held him back. In silence they exchanged a glance. And in it he read fear, confusion, hatred… love. Although their relationships had started badly, even if she would suffer centuries for the choice he had made, he was her father in the unlife. And few bonds could be so strong.

Hand in hand and the spite with spikes on their heels, they crossed the vortex and left the secret woods behind them.

With a firm step the creature came into another clearing. It marked a pause while a group of birds fled, frightened by its intrusion. Grunting, the being covered with dark tattoos swept the place with its eyes in search of the next victim. However, unlike the previous one, there was no potential prey in the area. None except a primitive deer that observed it placidly. Whatever it decided in an instant. Parasites, humans and elves would wait : ruin claimed blood, whatever its origin. The monster hissed as he raised its burning blades high, dominating the antlers of the majestic animal. And was pushed back into a confused whirlwind of flesh and fur.

The demon rolled among the wild grasses, but with an agile leap it found himself standing again. Before its shining eyes its prey was completing his metamorphosis. The deer had disappeared, giving way to an elf still covered in fur that was sparse at first sight. However, the scarlet beast was not very interested in the process : a prey was offered to its blade. With a new hiss it moved towards the shapeshifter as he slowly moved backwards in the center of the glade. It was only then that the dozens of ambushed archers from all over revealed their presence. By the time the intruder realized the trap in which it had set the claws, it was pierced by a flood of arrows.

Enchanteress and lord of the forest advanced out of the undergrowth as the scarlet monstrosity collapsed a few metres away. They joined Anos, who remained disarmingly calm despite his confrontation.

Helion nodded. It was the symbol of the blood god himself. A relic capable of reversing the magic, whatever its origin. This thing alone had caused more damage than an entire herd….

Having swapped the bow for the spear, the woodland warriors surrounded the mutilated monster without exchanging a word. With exemplary coordination, they skewered the creature that had a last jolt before giving its last breath. Slowly, the brightness of his eyes passed by, leaving only two dark, eyelid-less orbits.

One by one, the spearmen removed their tips and exchanged brief nods of satisfaction. Their brothers and sisters were avenged. Leaving the unholy carcass there, they took a few steps back and took the time to contemplate this thing that had caused their forest to suffer so much.

This one put down his spear and went to lean over the remains.

Lifting the fist, the soldier displayed the chain collar that he had managed to remove despite the deformed skull of the beast. Warda looked away, grinning. Then suddenly opened her eyes wide, finally realizing their mistake:

As if to emphasize her words, a hiss swept over the clearing. Immediately the spearmen took back their weapons. But already the tattooed demon was raising its flaming sword. It cut the elf’s wrist in a blink of an eye and pinned him to the ground. Its clawed grip closed on the pendant despite the spearheads that instantly pierced its body. Nevertheless, it managed to raise a muzzle stained with elven blood.

Not far from this futile battle and beyond the perception of the elves, the tenuous veil of reality was intertwined : the offering claimed by the Lord of the Skulls was back.

Bothel shook his head vigorously as he skillfully climbed out of the underground. He finally passed the knotty roots surrounding the opening and pulled a tuft of long grass from within reach.

The first dancer groaned as he cleaned his bloody hands.

With great strides the nomadic troop moved away from the barely visible underground, surrounded by wild grasses. But after only a few minutes towards the wood city, Bothel froze. The tufts of dirty grass slipped off his trembling fingers. Facing the five war dancers, just twenty meters away, stood one of these damn vampires. Dressed in a simple loincloth, he gave them a defiant smile, revealing his fangs. Then he stretched himself carelessly by performing a few shoulder reels.

The dancers remained motionless, looking at the vampire whose armor had disappeared. After a few moments of silent study, the intruder took the initiative to take a step forward. He even had the nerve to invite his enemies to come and face him, greeting them with the sword.

The person remained silent while three partners unhooked the blades hanging from their hips. They moved forward fast and the vampire backed away cautiously, impassively.

He approached a quieter step as his companions threw themselves at the undead. Immediately the wood resonated with metallic impacts. The elves swirled with fury, attacking from all sides with their six blades. However, with impressive reflexes, the vampire managed to keep them in line. For the time being. He split, dodged and counter-attacked with a vigour tenfold increased by the absence of armor to slow his movements.

He stopped as a spite flew by them, its back covered with spikes. He followed it with his eyes, until he discovered that another undead had just appeared in that direction. Engulfed in a badly damaged armor, he had his weapon in his hand, full of rage. Bothel recognized him in an instant : he had survived the lemur of the Mortourbe.

Almost escaping his grip, she pushed a scream that echoed through the woods. Gilnash grinned as the fury struggled harder, scratching his face and ploughing his ribs with her elbow. As he felt her escape from his embrace, he finally managed to identify the scent. Satisfied, he hurried to throw the rabid newborn child into the darkness. Immediately he drew his daggers, ready to face her if necessary. From the shadows she gave him a wild look. She’d do anything to tear him apart.

However, the soft aroma must have finally reached her nostrils. Suddenly straightening up, she sniffed the air and completely lost interest in him. A few more seconds and she would disappear into the depths. To say that Luther had smelled the dwarf’s blood more than a kilometer away… But that he had deigned to leave this prey to Gaylria surprised him even more than this ability of Walach’s son. Or finding a dwarf in this place.

Slowly, the vampire’s shoulders collapsed. For the time being, he had managed to canalize her. But for how long, he couldn’t have said it. The only previous known one was Varison’s son, an elf warrior whom he had considered worthy of non-life. But despite the efforts of the ancient master of arms, his infant had remained an uncontrollable animal. However, he had waited several weeks before eliminating this simulacrum of a warrior. To their knowledge, no other vampire had tried to transform an elf into one of them.

Returning to the present, he turned to the bare-chested elf who was running, amazed to find a living dead man there. However, he chased away his stupor, twirling a spear around his hips. A spear. With only his daggers left to Gilnash.

The elf screamed more loudly and tried to skewer the undead. However, his blade only split air, Luther having moved aside. Without losing a moment, Bothel followed with an aerial heel stroke that the vampire blocked with his wrist. However, he escaped a cry of pain and jumped back, holding his injured member. On impact, a thin blade hidden in the back of the shoe had bitten its flesh. He grinned.

At about twenty meters Manesh’k skillfully slipped between two vertical blades and struck a violent left hook at their owner. His nose burst into a scarlet spray, then he collapsed. With a roll the vampire stood back from his two other enemies who stood in front of their unconscious brother.

Taking advantage of this brief respite, the undead licked the blood that was now smearing his fist. The elves ticked as they watched him and charged together. However, they did not know that a few scarlet drops represented a handful of memories for a vampire.

Without lifting his blade, he dodged the first assault and with a sudden flexion passed under the second’s weapon. He even allowed himself the luxury of knocking the ankle of the first dancer with one kick of his boot with an evocative crack. He ignored the wounded man’s cries and stood up to face the last swordsman. He would no longer collect any more slashs : he now knew the different moves and twirls of the war dancers. Even better : he knew he was agile enough to reproduce them.

Stretching his arm through the gap, the elf who had just arrived tried in vain to catch his wounded brother. The latter was merely defying her with a black look.

John Grenaille was also caught off guard. He had more than a dozen vampires on his hunting list. But this was something new. Shouting more loudly and twisting their eardrums, she made all the wooden cages where they were locked tremble. The repurgator doubted that it was conventional wood : it was much more robust than it should have been. But this strange solidity was put to a severe test. The rabid elf’s new shoulder hit unhooked a few stones from the vault.

Runtnar jumped back as the fury threw herself on the door of his cell.

Hrugnir remained silent, slumped against the bottom of his own cage.

The third elf in turn collapsed under Manesh’k’s blows. His gaze slipped from one body to the other as he stretched his shoulder, remaining attentive to the metallic shards of Luther’s duel. His last opponent had taken advantage of an overconfidence on his part : a dark trail came to stain his pale skin at the shoulder. It did not concern him too much. It would heal quickly after feeding. As soon as the vampire had this thought, he felt an irrepressible need inside him. His jaw trembling, he forced himself to turn away the eyes of unconscious but very much alive elves. The three undead had not eaten since the military patrol of the cave at least five days ago. And had since fought many battles in the damn forest. Slowly giving in, he stepped towards his nearest victim. He could feel the blood from this broken nose and hear the regular drum of the heart nestled in this chest. He had tasted a few drops of this nectar in the middle of the battle. A simple sample…

The spite’s translucent form burst into his field of vision as he bent over to grasp the unfortunate by the neck. The vampire growled and chased him away with the back of his hand. In vain : the immaterial creature only passed through his flesh. However, the icy tingling managed to capture the attention of the undead for a moment. The sharp beast was gesturing from all four limbs, suggesting a direction from which battle cries came. With his mouth open and his fangs exposed, Manesh’k turned to the origin of the tumult. His eyes widened as he realized the situation they were in.

Bothel did not respond to this umpteenth spade, contenting himself with making the steel roar. The undead was an excellent swordsman and he seemed never to want to get tired. However, the war dancer was beginning to read some of the vampire’s shots. The longer their fight lasted, the more predictable he became. He himself had to be aware of this, his provocations becoming more and more original. The tattooed dancer sketched a slight smile, which froze when he noticed the face of his enemy. He was the very expression of surprise, observing a point behind the elf. Listening only to his instincts, he threw himself aside. A glowing blade whistled above him and bounced off the undead guard.

Bothel rolled out of range and straightened himself into a combat position, ready to face this new opponent.

Slowly he lowered his blade. Before his eyes the scarlet beast savagely attacked the vampire forced to retreat at each parade in the face of such fury. Handling two long incandescent swords, the tattooed beast never gave him a moment’s respite. It made the arrogant undead bend and even managed to silence him ! However, this fight remained totally illogical : why did this demonic animal attack its master with such hatred ? It was hard to believe that this thing had come to their rescue the day before during the intervention of the tree-man !

At the end, Luther managed to deflect one blade and then push back the other, finally finding an opening in the steel storm of the scarlet aberration. The steel sank to the guard in the scaly abdomen. However, this did not stop the monster who, opening a gaping mouth, came to stick its fangs in the vampire’s shoulder. He felt the burning inflicted by the sharp fangs. And this despite its thick shoulders. He screamed in pain and in panic dropped his weapon. He took the bloodletter from the throat with his wounded arm. When he saw the sword raised by the monster, Luther managed to turn sideways. He barely grabbed the guiding wrist with his free hand and stopped the fatal blow a few fingers from his face. The heat released by the weapon made him look wrinkled as he felt the infernal jaw secure its grip, ploughing his flesh. He screamed more beautifully.

Forgetting all caution, Manesh’k hit the creature with all his weight and sent it two meters away. In a blink he stood up again as the beast rolled with a kidney blow, like a hound trapped on his back. Luther moaned at his feet, grabbing his bruised shoulder. While hissing, the beast straightened up, drunk with anger. And, without it seeming to feel any pain, removed Luther’s weapon from its belly. It threw it away carelessly.

Manesh’k sketched a grimace as he watched the offspring of Scleras. He had plenty of time to examine it hissing and shaking its insidious tongue. This thing had grown since Grissenwald. How many people had been bled ? More importantly, how many times would it take to kill this horror for it to stop rising ? His face became a mask of anger and he in turn scolded, rolling up his lips to reveal his fangs. The chain around the beast’s neck ringed as they both charged to engage in yet another deadly struggle.

Gilnash huddled up, hidden among the leaves. From his high position, he could supervise the whole scene. The creature of Scleras was scraping with Manesh’k who had the situation in hand. More or less. They were moving away from the elf warrior. He followed the fight closely, paying attention to each of their weapons rounds. On his side Luther stood up, obviously shaken. He had seen others, he would recover. The main thing was that this mess did not move to the elves’ hiding place where Gaylria was feeding herself.

A handful of elves came along : a few archers and a lancer, as well as the three individuals who remained in retreat during the fight in the peat pond. Most of them had their strange clothes stained with blood. They stopped when they discovered the scene, the archers hesitating on the target to aim at : the two fighters or the wounded undead in retreat ? Keeping his nerve, Gilnash slipped onto another branch as stealthily as possible. He had to get closer to these newcomers.

The diaphanously dressed witch who had banished them to these strange woods was among them. She was their way out of the damn forest. Evolving as fast as the woodland vault allowed him to, Gilnash noticed other movements behind the archers. Were they other elves? He stopped for a moment. And swore.

However, he lost his haughty expression when he noticed the sticky clothes of several archers. Helion himself had the scarlet flank.

The fact that he chose a human term said a lot about the very inconsistency of this scene. Warda shrugged her shoulders. She had no answer to give as to the presence of the two undead. With a wave of his hand Helion ordered the archers to release their arrows. Demon as undeads were to die, for good. However, in a whirlwind of feathers, a buzzard burst out of nowhere and made a loud scream. It scratched the wrist of one of the archers as he released his cord, deflecting the shot. The other shots burst out and hit the demon who, improbably, was interposed between Manesh’k and the elves at that moment. Luther, for his part, narrowly avoided them by rolling, alarmed by the bird’s intrusion. Under a rain of arrows he ran to shelter behind a massive trunk without any further request.

Without another word the archers stopped. The elves slowly lowered their weapons. Several humanoids passed them, composed of animated brambles, green vines and thick knotty branches.

Without saying a word they stood between the elves and the two fighters. During their deadly struggle, neither of them noticed the dozens of dryads that were spreading around them. However, none of them seemed to want to intervene. It was only between two weapon passes, taking a step back, that Manesh’k realized the arena that the wooden devils had deployed around him. Carefree, the scarlet monster hissed once again, preparing to jump on the vampire. However, the quake that followed dissuaded it from doing so.

Just like the previous time, the bark behemoth appeared out of nowhere. It did not need to break the line of inferior spirits. Without losing a moment it charged and wiped the protagonists with the force of an avalanche with a long vegetable whip. If Manesh’k managed to jump over it, the demon was not so lucky. It went to be embedded in a trunk about ten meters away in a scarlet rain. Without waiting, many creatures from the groves rushed to its remains.

On the edge, Manesh’k stood up and faced up. Gusternum was easily five times his height and was infinitely heavier than the vampire. Bringing its limbs back to the bust, the mastodon inspired for a moment before pushing a hoarse rumble. It spat out a cloud of orange dust again. It surrounded the undead without him trying to escape it.

Manesh’k’s skin and the vegetation around him became orange-coloured, close to rusty iron. He kept his nerve, taking care to study the colossal creature. This thing had imposing whips welded to its wrists, not vines but rather long branches of willows with sharp-edged leaves that could dig the ground when it brought them close to it. He had to avoid being beaten down at all costs, he thought. Even the regenerative faculties of the undeads would not allow him to survive such a blow.

As the ochre mist slowly dissipated, Manesh’k pierced the green and sparkling eyes of the tree-man. Calmly he walked aside in order to be visible, raising his sword with insolence. The emerald light at eight meters high pulsed with anger under the provocation. Striking the ground with its foot, Gusternum bellowed with rage in the face of the undead who felt the vibrations through his jaw. Nevertheless, he had been able to see what he wanted. The entire body of the colossus was covered with pieces of knotty bark that he guessed to be as strong as stone. Nevertheless, on its left flank one of its vegetable scales was missing : the tattooed demon’s incandescent blades had left two deep furrows in its flesh.

Losing all restraint, the lord of the woods charged again, at an astonishing speed for its size. It hit the ground where Manesh’k stood with the strength of a divine hammer, its fist sinking deep into the forest soil. It had already released itself as Manesh’k finished his roll to the side and swept him away with the same arm. This time the vampire jumped over, just to see the second sharp-leaved whip fall. But from a new roll forward he slipped under the extension of the man-tree. Within blade reach of the trunk. And the breach in the giant’s natural armor. He made a smile with a murderous blow that he knew was decisive. And the Lahmian steel ricocheted lamentably against the living wood. A few splinters were torn off at most. He staggered for a moment, his muscles torn apart by the backlash. Would he have hit a rock that he would have broken it in half. But Gusternum was not made of stone. And a rock wouldn’t have thrown the vampire off with a kick.

Suddenly shaking up a sylvain spirit fascinated by the fight, Luther rushed between Gusternum and the vampire on the ground. Immediately the spirits of the forest rushed towards him, ready to tear apart the already wounded undead. The roar of the oldest of the forest guardians discouraged them, however, as Luther interfered.

Gilnash studied with amazement the giant of bark pushing back the lower spirits. Clearly it was leading the horde of thorns devils. And it did not tolerate anyone interfering in its fight. A rare event, even in the eyes of the elves, the dryads meekly withdrew, bowing with deference to their elder and reforming their circle. Suddenly several of them made high-pitched cries attracting general attention. Cutting limbs thicker than the vampire’s thigh as if they were twigs, the scarlet demon broke the newly reconstructed circle. And without further concern for the bark spirits it charged right at the tree man by raising its two incandescent swords.

Gusternum immediately intercepted it with a backhand, its vines-whipping whistling to come and sweep the demon away. But this one struck with both blades with all the force conferred by its momentum. A scarlet arm flew on one side, its fist still clenched on the guard of its demonic sword. And a confused mass of vines and twigs rolled through the grass. Ignoring its own wound, the scarlet beast stood up and mumbled with satisfaction as Gusternum stepped back, bringing its wounded limb back close to it. Its long, flexible branches had been cut cleanly at mid-length, with a stream of sticky sap flowing from the partially cauterized wounds.

He had spoken these words when he addressed the enchantress. However, his face was turned towards the warrior.

In front of the dazzled look of the war dancer, Anos explained by straightening his arms :

Without participating in the debate, Helion contemplated the struggle between the tree-man and the demonic avatar, looking darker and darker. They had failed until then. The imposing man-tree paid a high price for it. How many more lives were these invaders going to take ? His jaw was tense and he was angry. Wounded or not, what lord was he to watch his people and allies die in vain ?

The vampire grinned from his rooftop. The current situation was completely out of their control. But what the almost naked elf had just declared gave birth to an idea in his mind. A close rustle suddenly alerts him. Some birds flew all around as several incarnations of wood and vine approached, slipping from branch to branch as he had done earlier. Caught in a trap, all he had to do was hope that this idea would be right. Betting everything he had, he let himself fall into the void.

Bothel blenched when a dark form dropped among them from the high branches. All the elves turned around, their hands clutched on their weapons pointed at… Warda.

In a flash he had slipped his dagger under the enchantress’ throat. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand and blocked it in her back, forcing her to bend herself while lifting her neck with his blade.

She inspired with difficulty all the witnesses ready to jump on the undead at the slightest movement.

He suddenly pointed to the tree-man and its opponent of the dagger.

Gilnash took a look over his shoulder. The shapeshifter had his arms crossed again and seemed particularly calm despite the enchantress’ uncomfortable position.

Helion’s gaze went from Warda to Anos, then Gilnash. He supported his gaze with a heartbeat and then nodded darkly.

Without waiting for the end of his threats, Anos passed them and made an impossible leap for a normal elf. However, he was not a normal elf. And the dryads were taken by speed when he flew over them. And by the time they reacted, the two agile fighters in its wake had also crossed the animated wooden wall they made.

The war dancer roared with anger as he poured first on both belligerents. Scarlet demon and tree-man turned to him for a moment. The glowing blade whistled, but the fighter slipped under the sword. He hit its chest hard and sent the beast to roll back and then straightened up, grinning in anger. Behind his back, the vegetable whip waved like a divine punishment for interfering in this fight.

Until a colossal mass of flesh shakes the tree-man. Gusternum stepped back, destabilized by the impact. Its assailant fell back on two bare feet, his forearms finished with hooves. But the matter of these crumbled, quickly replaced by thin fingers. The bovine horns barely emerged from Anos’ forehead were swallowed by his temples. Gusternum stared at him for a few seconds, shaken by the shapeshifter’s intervention. On the side the war dancer threw himself at the scarlet enemy, stealing its prey. However, a bestial roar brought its interest back to its author, the shapeshifter. Also when the furious tree-man took its impulse in his direction, Anos turned his heels without asking, starting a new transformation without having finished the previous one.

But the vampire’s leg gave way under his weight and he fell back into the arms of his nephew with a moan. The deaf strike from the immense sylvan guardian had devastated his body. Ironically, the arrival of the scarlet invocation had probably saved his life… On this thought, his gaze rested on the vegetable whip, bristling with real vegetable blades. Sliced by the aberration of Scleras, it oozed an amber sap where the burning sword had struck.

The bark behemoth interrupted the undead with a muffled rumble by lifting huge clods of earth. Its prey, a kind of humanoid with goat limbs, had just flip-flopped between its massive legs. Starting at an astonishing speed despite his weight, Gusternum chased the resourceful elf away.

Gilnash nodded without reacting to the barely veiled disdain for Helion.

The bird-friend studied him for a moment. A shin, a wrist and multiple broken ribs. In such a state he had nothing to do on a battlefield. Nevertheless, he knew about his brother’s in death gaze. Nothing he would say could change his mind

The blade fell on the elf’s skull and surprised him… and sparked him when Lahmian steel intercepted the fatal blow. The demon turned its face towards the undesirable troublemaker. Manesh’k held his weapon in his left hand, his jaw tightened under the effort as the creature continued to support his shot. By pushing a growl the beast attacked with its second blade and the vampire had to throw himself backwards so as not to be cut in half. From a clumsy roll he stood up, leaning on his valid leg, just to discover the creature tattooed above him, the two blades brandished.

That was without counting the war dancer who swirled between the two of them. His kick came to pick the beast in the stomach and threw it back.

The wounded warrior swallowed a rebuke. His intervention had almost been his last pass of arms. As the scarlet monster returned to the assault with a bestial whistle, Bothel came to meet him and their deadly ballet restarted. Manesh’k was silently enraged to be only a witness to this fight. His wounds made him more of a burden than a real help to the elf. The latter was gifted, he moved and hit with skill and regularly passed the defense of the demon. However, he did not linger, aware that a fatal blow would not be enough to win. But despite his efforts, he could not tear off the unholy amulet from its owner.

Anos finally found himself facing a wall of dryades. They formed a wall that he could not cross. And this was true whatever his transformation, assuming that they give him time to change his skin. A deep rumble behind him confirmed this assumption. Grinning, he turned around, ready to suffer the wrath of the tree man.

Bowed over the elf, the venerable spirit marked a pause. What could be the whirling questions behind that emerald look, keeping it from crushing the elf ? Anos had no idea. After all, Gusternum was only accountable to itself…

Suddenly, a branch bounced off the shoulder of the tree-man.

Under the amazed gaze of the elf, the third vampire made great provocative gestures. And his persiflage immediately paid off : turning away from the cornered shapeshifter, Gusternum chased the undead who immediately turned his heels.

He had probably just saved his life….

Bothel armed a cross-shot from top to bottom. Again the incandescent weapon stopped and in a metallic sheen the elven blade broke. Without losing a moment, the elf reversed his strike and, yelling, sliced off the monster’s wrist with his broken weapon before parrying the second one that was coming down. He drove in a blink, anxious to keep the distance between the amputated beast and himself.

The elf took the new attack from his opponent. Taking a weapon away only seemed to have increased its fury. So he attacked Bothel once again. However, he was beginning to show signs of exhaustion. He once again spread the demonic sword. In the process, he pushed the broken weapon into the tattooed abdomen with a scream of victory.

Immediately the creature’s second scratched hand sprang up. In hiss of anger, the monster ploughed Bothel’s face, which was thrown aside under the force of the blow. Ignoring its own wound, the monster stood up high above the elf on the ground. Its second blade had reappeared on its fist, although it had been sliced a few moments earlier. Snarling joyful, it raised its arm to finally finished him.

But once again the Lahmian sword comes out. In a scarlet splash, the monster’s head flew sideways as the pendant fell to the ground in a metallic sound. In an instant the beheaded body turned to strike this unwelcome one. But without delay, the opportunistic vampire rolled under the burning blade and, lying under the blind demon, threw the talisman away. Without waiting he crawled in another direction, unwilling to be projected again into another dimension.

Just like the vampire on the ground, the elf lord turned to the enchantress. However, she had not waited for them. Her eyes closed, she was speedily articulating the syllables of her incantation. A breath of wind agitated her hair and her diaphanous dress as she channeled her spell. Instinctively the dryads turned to her. And the next moment, a violent flash of light blinded everyone present, whether elves, vampire or spirit.

Thanks to his sharp senses he immediately noticed the disappearance of their enemy. On the other hand, the shapeshifter did not notice the immense grip that threw him into the shadows. Far from being dazed, Gusternum grabbed the elf it lifted high above it with a roar of anger. Then, crushing the unfortunate elf in its iron fist, it violently hit the ground, throwing dirt in all directions. It straightened up again. Then finally released the unconscious elf who rolled like a wireless puppet. Finally rid of this intruder, it looked for the profaners of its forest.

She was trying to help him, but Helion stood in her way.

But the elf shook his head.

He suddenly realized that his son was still not getting up after being thrown to the ground. He was certain, however, that the demon had not hurt him before he disappeared.

Helion’s gaze slipped to the tree-man. It had noticed the disappearance of its scarlet opponent and was fulminating. Until it saw the two vampires still present, side by side.

Helion grinned. But he added nothing more and simply watched the giant move towards the already wounded undead.

However, he made a grimace by holding his ribs.

But the two vampires stopped their jokes all at once when Gusternum bawled as it charged. The ground trembled at each step of the furious tree-man’s footsteps.

Caught off guard, he was almost crushed by the brutal assault. Putting aside all his experience as a fighter, he fled. Screaming like a madman while waving his valid arm. In a blitz the behemoth was again on its heels, throwing clods of earth into the air at each of its steps.

John had no more words. After a final crash, the bars of the cell had given way. In a heartbeat, the dwarf’s life was gone. That dwarf he had dragged into this mess….

The vampire elf tore a new bloody bite out of the corpse, savoring her feast. Hrugnir, usually so taciturn, had long insulted and cursed her in his own language. But he himself was stunned by this macabre scene. His brother, reduced to lint, was slowly devoured by this infernal creature. His lips waved in the void while tears soaked his beard.

Only John noticed the silent arrival of a new individual before he spoke.

In a second the unrecognizable elf turned around and threw herself on her elder who welcomed her with a violent right hook. Gaylria shook up, hiccupping with surprise, then straightened up. But already the vampire was behind her back. With a sudden but particularly violent blow to the neck, he sent her to bite the dust. This time all the fury of the undead was insufficient. She fell into unconsciousness.

Gilnash turned to the repurgator. The surprise was perceptible in his eyes for a moment. Then he went from the remains to the second imprisoned dwarf.

In doing so, he managed to avoid the whip of the tree-man and to gain speed. Much more massive, it continued forward for a few steps before returning to pursuit.

The liquid burned his tongue and lips. And every swallow was like swallowing molten metal. However, Manesh’k forced himself to take an extra sip before throwing away the sliced vines, then fell to his knees. As he had imagined, the sap of this creature was more saturated with magic than a dwarf in beer on a festive evening. He felt it spreading through his veins, flowing to his muscles and setting fire to his arteries. With his jaw tightened to break his fangs, he turned his tight face towards the strange sky that reigned in Loren. The pain was atrocious, even more violent than the first time he had experienced the bite of the sun….

Lancinating, he fell sideways but caught up by putting his hand on the ground so as not to collapse. Dumbfounded by the pain, he nevertheless had a difficult smile : he had caught up on his broken wrist. His broken wrist that he felt boiled under his skin, as did each of his bones when they were resealed. And this since its renaissance centuries earlier. With the exception that never before had the burn been so intense. The energy contained in the sap of this creature drunk with raw magic healed his wounds at a frightening rate !

He straightened up painfully as the sensation dissipated, then took a fresh look at the clearing. He distinguished Luther perfectly, followed by the vegetable monstrosity. As well as the entity that inhabited it. It was literally sweating through the bark. Just like the creatures of wood and brambles surrounding them, though on a smaller scale. He also perceived the many lower spirits, such as the spiked one and the two met at the cairn. The sprites were literally swarming around them. He was shocked to notice them only now. And further on, the elves with the witch who also radiated a soft glow. But most of all, he perceived these ambient flows, all around them, as torrents rushing down from the canopy to sink into the ground here and there.

Luther’s cry ripped him away from his contemplation. The tree-man was about to seize him. Luther. His nephew. His companion. His friend. His brother in arms. With violence he pushed back his arcane fascination to give way to a single thought, a single objective. To strike down this giant.

Then his gaze fell on his Lahmian sword. It had only bounced off the bark. But not the demonic sword that was lying a few steps away. But when he tried to grab it, he felt the profane magic pushing him back even before he could get his hands on it. He could not use the incandescent weapon to fight the tree-man. Nevertheless, he had recently taken over the memories of a sorcerer in Grissenwald. And a fraction of his power. Tristofan would have been able to generate a similar spell. With the power that was flowing through his veins at the moment, could he achieve such a feat ?

He raised a finger to the level of his gaze. Aqshi. The flaming wind. Drowned in this green forest, suffocated by this unique atmosphere, he called with all his heart for the fiery wind. Until a slight spark crackled at his fingertips. He then raised his weapon.

He gradually sketched a smile, trying to stay focused. In the wake of his index finger, the metal turned white and emitted a heat similar to the demon’s weapon. He clearly saw the scarlet aura along his weapon, which he would not have perceived a week earlier. The heat did not hurt him when, satisfied, he pointed his now enchanted weapon at the tree-man.

And he rushed off at full speed. He crossed Luther who had not seen him coming in the opposite direction and intercepted the vegetable whip as the demon had done earlier, blade forward. The lateral strike caused him to slide over a meter into the grass but the vampire held on. He felt his shoulders shaking under the force of the shock and was finally pushed aside. However, he managed to maintain his balance and a predatory smile appeared on his face. If his flamboyant fate did not have the same effectiveness as the demonic swords, he had just reached his opponent’s left fist. Several sharp vines lay on the ground while smoking. However, he had to hurry because his rough spell could dissipate on his own at any time.

Gusternum did not dwell on this new wound. It swept again, even more enraged than it already was. With a quick leap, the vampire climbed on the limb of the tree-man flying towards him and in the process climbed its already mutilated shoulder. Manesh’k made a new jump as his opponent straightened up. Suddenly the vampire turned around and went down. Facing the colossus’ back.

He got up in a blink and charged once more. The imposing behemoth did not yet face him that he was already slipping on the grass. He snaked between the giant’s legs and strikes its knees in the process. Taking even more advantage of his higher velocity, he got up again, once again in the back of his enemy. He moved back two hits later, the two shanks of Gusternum severed cleanly.

The vampire had completely left his enemy behind. And it finally collapsed as amber sap gushed out of the back of its knees. However, it was unable to bend its legs and held on to its knotty arms. With a much more calm step now, Manesh’k walked around him and presented himself in front of it. Even so prostrated, the tree-man measured more than twice his height.

The vampire looked into this emerald light, bubbling with anger. To demons, to dwarves, to undeads but also to elves. This creature hated these life forms, whatever they were. He could see it in its eyes. Unless it was that amber liquid he had ingested that gave him that feeling. It didn’t matter.

The tattooed demon had fought it head-on. Expressing all its savagery and thirst for destruction, it had plowed its arms and chest. But Manesh’k was of a different kind. Now that he had his own incandescent weapon, Gusternum no longer had a chance to win.

It was when Gilnash saw the wooden devils rushing forward that he guessed things were turning to vinegar. They were not charging in the direction of the vampire and the unconscious elf he was carrying, but towards the immense sylvan incarnation. The enchantress and the soldiers present were amazed.

As he came closer, he saw no trace of the beast created by Scleras. He nevertheless stopped when he noticed Manesh’k standing alone facing the titan. How was that even possible ? A few minutes earlier his leg and arm were broken ! And yet, he had his sword at his hand and stared at the incarnate spirits rushing at him. But with a hoarse rumbling, the tree-man stopped them from reducing the vampire to lint.

Obeying the authority of the ancestral spirit, the bark and brambles devils moved away. They fulminated and dug furrows in the earth with their sharp limbs. But they didn’t come any closer. And slowly, Manesh’k turned towards the tree-man. He raised his weapon.

The enchantress made a heart-rending cry when he pushed the burning sword into the bark. He plunged the weapon to the guard, at the junction of the chest and the head. With a jolt that elves and vampires alike felt despite the distance, Gusternum floundered. But it didn’t collapse. In precarious equilibrium, it held on despite its terrible injury. And Manesh’k, climbed up to his throat, leaning on the weapon stuck in the wood. Then, with solemn slowness, he carried his lips to the wound while rotating the weapon in its living sheath. With the upper limbs in the ground, the creature’s suffering was obvious. It pushed a agonizing moan of agony.

In the same movement, the elven archers bandaged their bows, arrows pointed at the vampire splashed with amber sap.

All colors deserted the elf’s face as he discovered his daughter, unconscious in the arms of this second undead.

All turned to Manesh’k. He was sticky from sap, his hair stuck to his face and his bare chest. On his belt hung a sheath and a loincloth, both stained with blackened blood. But more than anything else. More than the tone he had just used. More than the deference with which the dryads moved away. His eyes struck elves like vampires. His pupils were scarlet. But they shone intensely, like those of a feline in the dark while they were in full light. As for the white of the eye, it had turned green. A green that pulsed with the same energy as the tree-man’s gaze, which he left weakened behind him. Weakened but alive.

He turned to Gilnash who took a moment to realize that his brother was asking him for confirmation. What he did with a nod.

But the Lahmian weapon blocked her way, quickly recovering its usual dark colour as it cooled down. With the arrows still pointing at him, Manesh’k shook his head and spread amber droplets.

At such close range, everyone could see that his pale skin was streaked with veins turning dark green.

The elf could only repress a chill. Behind him, the archers began to doubt. Should they be sifting through it with arrows or lowering their weapons ? Especially since about thirty ancient spirits observed them in a heavy silence, totally motionless. Including the imposing tree-man mutilated, looking back at the scene from its unreadable emerald gaze.

Gilnash and Luther exchanged a look but remained silent. Both were trying to hide their trouble. In vain. They obviously had Abhorash’s exploit in mind. But his liberation from vampirism had nothing to do with this transformation. What was happening to their brother ?

Gaylria who was just opening her eyes shyly. Red eyes, just like Luther and Gilnash’s.

Helion stammered, then sought the gaze of the enchantress in search of support. However, the latter discarded without adding anything.

As he did so, he rengained his weapon, then looked to one side of the clearing ravaged by the fighting. The two elves were still lying there.

There was nothing more to add. If Helion held them more, his son and the lonely shapeshifter would lose their lives. He sighed slowly, turned to Warda and then to the undead. And dropped his verdict :