Dragos clapped his hands together in unrestricted delight. “We are honored to make this alliance,” he said, standing to offer Radu his hand.
Radu’s eyes looked directly past him to settle on David, extending his hand towards him instead. David took it without hesitation. “We will meet again soon,” Radu said to him. “I wish to destroy the Imposter as soon as possible, before he realizes what transpires under his own nose.”
Dragos quickly recovered from the insult, deciding to act as if it had not occurred. “My general, Danulf, would like to further discuss our strategies with your general.”
Danulf, who had been enjoying the exchange playing out before him, rose to his feet. “Allow me to speak with your general. We are hoping to go to war within a fortnight.”
David was surprised. “So soon?”
Dragos interrupted before Danulf could respond. “As much as we try to remain underground, the Imposter has shadows planted throughout the village. As soon as word reaches him that you are still alive, he will come searching for you. And when he finds out that you are part of an insurgence rising up against him, it will be immediate war.”
David nodded, understanding his point.
“As you wish,” Radu inserted. “I will take your general to mine.” He stood, gesturing for Danulf to follow.
“And I will escort you back to our safehold,” Dragos instructed David, with a look that dared him to argue. David watched Danulf leave with Radu and his soldiers, realizing that his skin still throbbed and his bones still ached for rest. He acquiesced to the notion of returning to his bed, following Dragos out of the tavern.
The snowstorm had ceased, leaving the skies clear enough to see a sliver of moon peeking out from behind the rugged mountain tops. The air was cold, but not enough to maintain more than a thin layer of snow on the ground that dissipated with each footstep.
David had time to observe Dragos, who moved with the determination of a warrior stifled by his restrictive status. He was dressed in dark colors that blended with his skin tone, offering natural camouflage, with various weaponry strapped to his legs and waist. His long facial hair seemed even longer with the height of his tall fur cap. David tried to pick up his thoughts, but could only hear the chaotic buzz of insects. He absently wondered if he’d lost his telepathic gift forever, another power removed.
They reached the threshold, greeting a visibly displeased Hekate. Her curvaceous frame took over the doorway, her hand perched at her hip. She glared out from underneath the hood of her cloak.
“It was Danulf that brought him to me, though I support his actions,” Dragos explained before she could speak.
Her sharp virid eyes narrowed, and although they differed in color, they burned in a way that revealed they were undoubtedly her father’s. David suddenly wondered how Lucius would react to his children if he met them, if he would be pleased by his lookalike son or proud of his beautiful daughter’s cunning, and if his heart would break when he learned of their abhorrence towards him.
“While you were away, one of the soldiers came to my door,” Hekate told him. “Apparently there was a scuffle between the camp and the Sagittaureans, and now one of theirs is wounded. They are demanding our assistance, but you know how they feel about me.”
Dragos cursed under his breath. “The last thing we need right now is their animosity.”
“Where is Danulf?” she asked.
“He should be reaching the camp shortly with the others,” he replied. “Hopefully he can keep the peace until we get there.”
“We?”
“I am taking David with me.”
Hekate started to protest.
“Hekate, he is almost entirely healed,” Dragos cut her off. “I am going to need his power if they become combative.”
Hekate frowned, but begrudgingly nodded. “Come, get my bag.”
“Where are we going?” David broke in.
“The Sagittaureans live in the most remote part of the mountains,” Hekate explained hurriedly as she began to throw bundles of herbs and tinctures into a leather satchel. “They are quite content to leave us alone, provided we do the same. The Ottomans, however, unknowingly made camp on a portion of their land, and it took much convincing on our part to get them to accept their presence there. It seems as though they have decided to renege on our agreement.” She lined the bag with fresh bandages before placing it in Dragos’s arms.
“They are also notoriously obstinate and they detest women,” he added, securing the straps of the bag across his chest, its bulkiness, plus his costume of weaponry, giving him an intimidating facade.
Hekate quickly inspected David and sighed. She removed her cloak, draping it over his shoulders to conceal his bandaged arms. “Please be careful.”
David gave her a gentle hug around her swollen stomach, watching the apples of her face redden from the gesture. “I will,” he assured her.
“Come, we should hurry,” Dragos called from the door. David followed, the two reentering the frozen terrain.
“Are you able to move at our speed or shall we travel by horseback?” Dragos asked with an impartial expression.
“I can run,” David told him, though he wasn’t convinced his response was not motivated by pride.
Dragos did not argue, seeming to disappear instantly from the whitewashed town into the forest of evergreens. David darted after him, wincing only slightly as his body balked at the sudden movement. Dragos stopped when they reached the far edge of the mountains where the woods were so thick that only pine needles cluttered its floor, free of the snow that had gathered on the tips of its conifers. David fought collapse, realizing the overexertion had not been in his best interest, when the stomps of agitated horses interrupted, jolting him enough that his preservation instincts overcame his moment of weakness.
“We come peacefully, at your request,” Dragos called out into the darkness. Even with heightened senses, David struggled to see.
“One of your kind has wounded our man. I would like to have a limb in payment,” came a haughty male voice.
“I can only offer you my healing services,” Dragos replied coolly.
“Of course,” another one snorted.
“Let them help, and if they cannot, we will take a limb ourselves,” another suggested.
From the murky black stepped forward several horses, except that they were not simply horses, but the torsos of men connected to bodies of equine limbs and hair. David tried to conceal his surprise, for he had assumed centaurs were creatures of legend. Furthermore, they were prominent in Greek tales, and the revelation that they stalked the inhospitable forest of the Carpathian Mountains proved additionally surprising.
The centaur in the middle was larger than his counterparts, his chest covered in patches of auburn hair that resumed at the waist to cover four strong legs secured by ample hooves. His eyes were a deep brown that appeared menacing as he scowled. He crossed his arms, his muscles tight. “Who is this you have brought along with you? He reeks like another strigoi.”
“He is another creature like me, come to help mend the wounded,” Dragos calmly replied.
