The Old Warrior

by Dale Broda, Jr

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  Red eyes gazed at them from the shadows. More than one pair. More blinked open. He couldn’t count how many. They stayed hidden in the darkest of dark shadows, their eyes illuminating only a bit of their sharp features.

  Vampires.

  He glanced at the brightening sky. He was safe out here, however, would they try to attack in there? The old warrior frowned as the trees blurred a bit. No time to think really, he had a bit of a distance to go yet to water, then a bit to the hidden camp he knew would be there. He hoped would be there.

  No. It had to be there. He had stumbled upon them over the years, many a time with death’s cold grip around his heart. No time to worry about it showing or not. He had bet on it, so he would continue to believe.

  The old warrior plunged into the still dark forest.

  Just as he had expected, the vampires followed. All he could see of them were their eyes moving from tree to tree. Keeping pace. Like giant squirrels they could run along the smallest of limbs and make a mighty leap to catch the next tree and the next and never once did their red eyes leave him. He wondered if they would attack and if they did how he would defend himself. He could feel the nightmare tense on his shoulders, her grip tighten. Good girl. She kept clinging but had learned where to cling well enough not to hamper his movement.

  She learned fast. That was good. She would do well with those he went to meet. She would do well in life with a fast mind. If he could find those he sought.

  “Vampires?” Her voice was a soft whisper. He was surprised she knew that. Then, what child had not been told tales of all the various beasties out here, both real and imagined?

  “Yes.” The old warrior frowned at the sound of his voice. It didn’t sound like his at all. He normally had a low, rough voice from a neck wound he had taken long ago. This voice... this voice was not even close to that.

  He didn’t need her sudden tensing to know one of the vampires had leapt to attack. No longer able to resist the temptation of fleeing, wounded prey. Little did the creature know, the old warrior was not as easy a target as he appeared.

  As the dark creature fluttered in towards him, he stopped, spun around low enough to the ground that the girl could jump off and came back up to meet the creature with the tip of his sword.

  The vampire impaled itself almost to the hilt, its warm blood gushing out and over the old warrior’s hand. It was almost too hot.

  Hissing and roaring, it clawed its way towards him. Pulling itself along the sword. Slashing at him with its talons. Trying to focus its eyes on his to catch him with its hypnotic stare. He was no fool. Bringing the smaller sword up and around he lobbed off the beast’s head and grunted slightly as he lifted his arm and flung the body off his blade to tumble into the brush.

  Another came sailing at him from his right.

  He turned to face it, both swords held at the ready. His granite eyes steady, narrowed. His ears listening and marking the location of those that he could. At the very last second the vampire veered off. Veering past him to try and get back up into the trees. Losing its nerve no doubt.

  Roaring as best he could he still chopped at it. He was the predator here. They needed to know that. The vampire let out a strange howl as its legs were cut away. It still managed to make it into the deeper shadows of a high tree. Landing, its red eyes lighted on him. The old warrior lifted his lip in an angry, silent snarl.

  He was the predator.

  The vampire kept eye contact for a few heart beats, then began to yowl, those he had marked by sound moved to it and some he had not heard suddenly appeared by it. They all gathered and stared at him.

  He stood his ground, baring his teeth. Shaking but still ready to fight. The vampire he had wounded was mewling now, its wounds being cleaned by its clan and no doubt, already healing.

  Though they were a weak creature in most respects but they could be hard to kill. Without chopping off the head, they could live through almost any blow that would kill other creatures. Even growing back limbs at a rather disturbing pace.

  The old warrior kept his granite eyes locked onto them. Not backing down. Not showing the weakness he was beginning to feel. Gathering all the anger and hatred and power he could to project at them through his eyes and stance.

  It was enough. With a strange grunt from behind him from one he had neither seen nor heard before, the eyes vanished as fast as that. They simply blinked out. He held his pose for a bit longer to make sure none would backtrack to call his bluff. When he was sure they were gone and the sounds of the forest picked up around him, he dropped to a knee.

  He was breathing heavily now. Too heavily. He could feel the sticky wetness of his life force down both legs, under what remained of his clothes and armor. It was sticky where it dried and wet at the same time as new waves slowly washed over it.

  He didn’t have much time.

  He turned his head as he felt a small hand on his shoulder. Sky blue eyes looked into his with a concern he did not warrant or want. Strange how luminous they looked compared to the actual sky. He frowned.

  The nightmare had no right to show that concern to him, he who had come into her life and destroyed all that she had known.

  True, he was also saving her, at the cost of what would be determined much later. Was he saving a beast or a child? Would she grow to help or to harm? The old warrior sat that thought aside. He had chosen to save her and save her he would.

  He motioned with his head, she clambered up onto his shoulders again. With an inner groan, he came to his feet and slowly loped towards the stream. It was not far. The gait he had learned from that old bastard so many years ago suited his condition and this forest perfectly. He kept up a steady pace for hours.

  It couldn’t have been hours literally, even if he felt like it was. That had to be a sign of his weakening.

  Shame.

  Still, he could smell the fresh, clean water before he could hear it. As he came out into the clearing around the slow moving stream, he kept all his senses on alert. Many things came to water and he had been following a game trail of some sort. Sure enough, he spotted a stripped leopard in a nearby tree. Its green splotched pattern matched the trees perfectly.

  The big cat’s dark green eyes studied him for a moment then simply looked away. A yawn followed, showing the cat’s mighty canines. With its ears still turned to him, it rested its head back onto its paws and waited.

  He knew the behavior. It had sized him up and decided against an attack. Maybe he was still a dangerous force to those that could tell? Maybe the cat did not want to attack what had seen it when it could easily ambush some less wary prey. Or maybe it had just eaten and didn’t give a damn.

  It didn’t matter. The old warrior would rest, drink and keep on the alert. Just in case.

  He sat the little nightmare down as he went to the stream’s edge. It was not safe to just plunge into there either. More predators could easily snatch the unwise from the stream banks and drag them down. Here it was shallow enough he could clearly see the large fish, a few much larger than himself, moving slowly with the current.

  Nothing else aside from the fish.

  No hidden water raptors or camouflaged rivens. Just fish. He motioned the nightmare with his hand. She hurried to the water’s edge and splashed down into it. He had not expected that. Neither had the fish or leopard from their reactions.

  Still, he let her wash herself and drink as much as she could while he kept a wary eye. The leopard was watching her, though it still rested calmly. He doubted it would attack if it had not done so already. The fish that had darted away swam slowly back by her, out in the deeper part of the stream, soon enough, they too were moving on their way.

  Except for a few that remained hidden near the opposite shore, now and again snatching one of the smaller fish.

  When she had cleaned away all the gore she could from her hair and her skin and what remained of her nightclothes, she looked at him with those sky blue eyes. They sparkled so brightly
. She even smiled. In the dark of the day, her entire being seemed to glow. It was disturbing.

  Children. How much they could endure had always marveled him.

  If she was, in fact, a child.

  “Coming in?” Her voice was soft. She kept it above a whisper, loud enough to be heard easily, not loud enough for him to warn her. She was quick alright. She knew the risks it seemed. The danger they were still in this close to so much bloodshed.

  He shook his head. She frowned slightly before turning.

  After a final dunk of her head and hard rub through her hair, she came out of the water and sat on the bank. After a moment, she let her feet dip back in and sat there looking at him.

  Setting his swords down, he slowly knelt at the edge of the stream. His granite eyes looked from the cat to the fish and back to the cat and beyond into the ever brighter forest. Darkness was fading. With it, most dangers would leave yet others would appear.

  Taking a hard breath, one that seemed to fight its way into his lungs instead of the gentle intake he was so used to, he dunked his head, scrubbed hard and fast, popped back out to look quickly around.

  No dangers he could sense.

  Keeping a wary eye out, he took off his remaining leather glove and cupped as much water as possible into it and quickly into his mouth. It burned. Burned like nothing had before. He coughed it back out. The water was mixed with blood. His blood.

  He had to drink.

  He coughed some more.