On the eighth day, Iérti saw they were only a night's ride from the mountains. He made his men stop and rest that day.

At night, Iérti kept the men moving at a steady pace, not rushing them. They were in the open field that stretched out in front of the mountains like a green tapestry, the mountains dark and tall as portrayed in fairytale books. There were no stars that night nor a moon to light their way. It was void and ominous like the black sky that hovered above them.

While Iérti's army kept moving, Mallen's army finally made their move. On one silent unspoken command, the vampires went out as swift as shadows and as quiet as the night, their movements but a rush of air passing through.

Alongside Iérti, a stable boy riding on his horse was rubbing tiredness out of his eyes when he glanced down at his silver sword in astonishment, seeing the horrific sight of vampires advancing behind them, their reflection in his sword terrifying him. The stable boy told Iérti, who immediately looked back to see the vampires, the same moment his men began to raise the alarm that vampires were sighted.

Kill them all. Do not feed nor harm Iérti Keresi; he is to be alive and unharmed, Mallen mentally commanded his vampire army, speaking to them telepathically. Obligated to comply with his orders, the vampires eagerly went for the kill.

Panic blazed through Iérti's army like a flame. Iérti turned his horse so that he was facing the vampires. He gripped his garlic-laden silver sword tightly as his men started dipping their own silver swords into barrels of garlic oil.

But it availed to total failure. Vampires ripped through the army like locusts, killing and feeding almost instantaneously. Iérti was knocked out of his saddle and off his horse before he had a chance to swipe at a vampire with his sword. Iérti groaned as he hit the ground, the grass already wet with the blood of his fallen men.

"No," Iérti said in horror, wiping blood off his clothes.

Around him was chaos. Iérti saw Norwan take out a vampire with his sword before another one lunged at him from behind. Iérti rushed forward to help Norwan, but he was confronted by a vampire that stood in Iérti's path.

The vampire swung his sword out of the way, rendering Iérti weaponless. Iérti reached for a stake on the ground, but the vampire grabbed him, moving Iérti to a bush far from the battle.

"Our leader will deal with you later," the vampire told Iérti before returning to the battlefield.

Iérti couldn't even begin to process the thought of being chosen as the vampire leader's personal lunch, or the fact the vampires even had a leader. He was absolutely horrified. It had all happened so quickly. Despite their best precautions, it ended up in a bloodbath much worse than the one the former general of the East lands had died in.

His body ached. His heart ached even more. Hidden behind the bush, watched in dismay as vampires feasted on his fallen comrades. All of them – including Norwan, Theose, Eluro – were dead.

Iérti turned and sat back against a nearby tree, shell-shocked. He hugged his knees to his chest, unable to stop sobbing. I had led these men to their deaths. Men with wives, children, families, friends. Men with hopes and dreams of a safe, peaceful world. They were brave men who died horrendously. I'm the only survivor. Not even the stable boy survived.

Grief panged Iérti as he mourned their deaths. He felt shaken, unable to do anything but cry. The attack flashed in his mind several times. The sight of vampires, their fangs like vipers. The sight of his fallen men on the ground, drained dry and left for dead. The sight of some that mercifully died the very instant the vampires attacked. The sound of horses neighing and shrieking. The sound of men screaming and yelling. Iérti remembered every detail as though it was etched into his memory. His shoulders shook as he continued to cry, devastated by the loss of his army.

A nearby sound broke him out of his sobbing, making him jump in fright. Iérti's heart began racing as a vampire emerged from the forest in front of him, standing tall and proud, completely at ease while moving silently.

Iérti stared in horror as Mallen slowly approached him, his eyes steadily watching him. They were red like the blood that evidenced he had drunken his fill. His long dark hair was shiny, glistening with the pale curve of the moon behind him. His hair was tied back with an olive green ribbon, the exact same olive green as his eyes when not in vampiric form.

His clothing was of the smoothest material, soft and kingly, compared to Iérti's rough, homespun military garb. His skin was as pale as snow, as lovely as porcelain. He was the most beautiful, yet the most dangerous man Iérti had ever seen.

Mallen looked down at Iérti, taking in his appearance. He felt every throb of his heartbeat, his pulse, the rush of blood that coursed through his veins, the shaking sobs that came from within. He sensed the man's deep sorrow and grief, saw the pain in his eyes. Pain he inflicted by wiping out his army.

Mallen continued staring silently at Iérti, studying him for a long moment. Iérti didn't know whether to run or beg for mercy. Running would be futile; the vampire would easily outrun him in less than two seconds. Begging for mercy was the only option, but Iérti was too shaken to speak. He could only look up at him in fear, knowing he was already a dead man.

"Iérti Keresi, general of the East lands. We meet at last," Mallen spoke, his voice smooth and calm. He pronounced Iérti's name E-yehr-ti Keh-reh-see.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it already," Iérti said, tears brimming his eyes. He figured it was already too late for him; death was the only thing that awaited him now.

But Mallen shook his head. "I have other plans for you," he said, excitement gleaming in his eyes. "I've been watching you, Iérti. Like me, you have the sharpest senses of your kind."

"I'm not like you," Iérti said in revulsion. "I will never be like you."

Mallen bit his own arm and extended it out towards Iérti, who backed away in horror. "I'm offering you a chance to live," Mallen said, keeping his arm out as it started dripping dark red. "You have the potential to become second to the most powerful vampire that ever walked this land. You have much talent, Iérti. I would hate to see your skills go without use."

"Never," Iérti rasped, finding the strength to urgently get away. "I would rather die a human than become one of your kind."

"Your choice," Mallen said in an offhanded tone, bringing his arm to himself and wrapping an extra ribbon around it to stop the bleeding. "I'll be here should you change your mind."

"Go to hell!" yelled, glaring at him. "You're a bloodthirsty monster who kills innocents! You're the greatest abomination to ever walk the land. You are incapable of compassion and mercy."

"Yet you're the one who holds much compassion and mercy." Mallen looked at Iérti almost enviously, then he turned and walked away.

Iérti gave a small sigh of relief. Overwhelmed by everything, he leaned back against the tree to rest for a while.

When daylight came, Iérti had already fallen asleep. Mallen watched Iérti sleep, making sure other vampires stayed away while he remained hidden in the shade.

When Iérti awoke sometime later, he went to find the dead bodies of his entire army. Vultures feasted on multiple carcasses as the sun kept vampires away. Some horses died during battle while others had run off. Iérti's eyes brimmed with heavy tears as he looked upon the dead.

All their food supplies were thrown into the pools of blood, so Iérti was unable to have anything to eat. He didn't know Mallen had intentionally done so. All the water was dumped out as well. The sun's heat glared down on it, as if it had cruel intentions of its own.

Iérti reached for his garlic-laden silver sword, studying the way the sun reflected off the metal. I didn't even get to use it, Iérti mused sadly. Though some of his men did manage to kill a few vampires, it was a miniscule victory compared to the overall tragedy.

Iérti took his sword and some equipment with him, putting them in a saddle bag. He walked on foot, heading towards the mountains. He was over a week away from the fortress; the mountains were all the hope he had left.

He walked until he was utterly spent. Though Iérti was in good health, the more the days progressed, the more he became mentally and physically exhausted from lack of food and water.

After spending an entire day walking through the open fields, Iérti dared to go into the forest. He found a stream of water and picked berries off nearby bushes, its sweet taste reviving him for a moment. He heard a noise and drew his sword, but it was only a bird.

Night came after a long grueling afternoon. Iérti walked until he was unable to walk much further. He sat on a log to get his bearings, carefully setting his sword across his thighs.

Iérti heard Mallen speak again, his tone taunting. "Look at you and your pathetic human weaknesses," Mallen said, dropping down from a tree branch and standing so that he was facing Iérti. "A man like you shouldn't have to suffer in such a way."

Iérti instantly sprang up and held his sword out, the garlic dry but still heavily effective. "I'm going to make you suffer for what you did to my men," Iérti said threateningly, his will much stronger than his physical condition.

Mallen raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "I'd like to see you try to accomplish that, actually. Let's see, a dehydrated, starving man against a strong, well-fed vampire. I'd say the odds of you succeeding – "

Iérti struck out, but Mallen blocked the strike with his arm. He grabbed Iérti's arm and flung his sword to the side, gasping when his skin made contact with the garlic. Despite being swordless, Iérti didn't give up, attempting to drive a random stick into Mallen's chest, but the vampire simply flicked it as though it was a bug. He threw Iérti to the side, making him fall hard against a tree.

"Like I almost said, zero odds of you succeeding," said Mallen, smirking as he left.

Iérti grunted as he got up, his body hurting. He picked up his sword and went to work fashioning stakes out of a sizeable chunk of wood. His stomach growled, alerting him to his hunger. He went out in search of food.

After a few hours of roaming through the forest, Iérti succumbed to the dizziness and tiredness that began to overtake him. No longer having the energy to think straight, Iérti slumped against a tree, feeling weak and nauseous.

✨ How I picture Iérti and Mallen ✨