“Still, I would feel better if we had your wolf half right about now.”
“That would help,” he agreed. “But I am not only a varcolac and blood drinker,” he said as the mob drew closer, “but I am also a Viking.” The final word passed through grinning lips as the first wave lunged at them, Danulf annihilating them easily with a few skillful weaves of his axe.
The rest of the swarm followed suit, and after some time, David and Danulf fell into an unintended synchronicity of movement, their quick but savage butchery unfolding in thundering unison. The nemorti fell pitiably to the ground in droves as the two primordial warriors invoked their innate brute strength to slaughter them all, one by one.
It wasn’t long before David looked up to see his warring partner completely drenched in blood, finishing off the last pitiable soldier with a celebratory battle cry. Danulf then turned towards him with a triumphant smile, his bright blue eyes and metallic teeth glowing eerily against the oily black that covered his face. “Good fight!”
David shared the sentiment with a nod, then paused to assess his surroundings. Not only was Dragos nowhere to be found but neither was the dragon Lucius. He frowned, taking a moment to rest his over-exerted limbs as he surveyed the courtyard.
“I do not see him anywhere, either,” Danulf muttered as if he read his thoughts. “In fact, the whole damned army has deserted us.” He was right, it seemed the only bodies left were those that littered the ground. “I should go after the traitor,” he suggested.
David nodded. “And I should find Lucius.”
“Do not lose my axe. I will be coming back for it after I kill him.”
The two took leave of each other without prolonged ado, grabbing each other’s forearms, as in the ancient practice, before going their separate directions.
The courtyard was quiet save for the pitiful moans of dying creatures. The sleet from earlier had ceased at some point during the battle, leaving the sky cloudless and bitter cold. The remaining pieces of a once magnificent fortress interrupted the exposed moonlight with its jagged frame, casting irregular beams over on the grim scene below.
Exhaustion pried emotion out of him, grief settling over him like a gentle snowfall. Even if Lucius was still alive, he was no longer the man he’d once known, memories of their happier moments in life slowly drifting by in his mind. Like many of their homes throughout the centuries, the castle was a source of pride and joy for Lucius, the Wallachian fortress the one he cherished most. Watching it crumble slowly into the Arges marked the end to life as David had known it for many years.
His morbid reflection was interrupted by trembling earth, accompanied by sounds much like the forewarning of an avalanche. David struggled for balance as he watched the dragon uncoil from the stormy waters of the river, plumes of steam rising along with it. Its golden eyes held on to David’s as it unfurled its massive wings, shaking the water from its scales. When it had completely risen to its feet, it was taller than the castle it had destroyed, tightening the muscles of its arms and legs as it opened its mouth to shriek its hateful flames.
David rolled out of the way just in time, his refuge a pile of discarded limestone. A flicker of metal caught his eye, revealing Radu’s sword lodged between the rocks. He retrieved it as the shaking ground escalated in violent fervor, the creature finding its footing on land. Fear taunted him as he gripped the weapon close. “I invoke whatever powers may be, that I might be aided in this fight,” he whispered.
The shrill cry of crows piercing the air in response was all he needed to gain back his confidence. He withdrew from his hiding place prepared to fight, when suddenly, he was jolted by the sensation of his back being sliced into two. He realized wings had sprouted out of his back, his body humming with a new energy that was so intense and pure that it caused him to shudder as they unfurled behind him. The skies had also responded to his appeal, torrents of wind beginning to whip around them.
The monstrous creature made its way onto the dry land where David stood, but when it opened its mouth once more, David leapt into the sky in flight, missing the scorching stream and landing right on top of its viscous back. The battlefield below was now entirely ablaze, the sweeping flames swallowing up the vestiges of war, ensuring nothing was left behind. David felt as if his body was not his own, driven by power that transcended anything he’d felt before. It was as if he vibrated with the souls of every creature that was or had ever been, his mind an orchestra of lions’ roars, bear growls, and eagle calls. He felt them all—animal, bird, angel—gripping Radu’s sword with him as the dragon frantically tried to shake him off. With one unified thrust, they drove the metal straight between the shoulder blades that wielded its massive leathery wings.
The dragon howled in agony, finally able to toss David from its back. But David’s wings caught him, allowing him to hover in the air not far from where the creature began to thrash, powerless to dislodge the lethal metal from between its back bones. The mountains began to crumble with its panicked movement, taking along more chunks of the castle as they fell into the raging waters below.
David watched as the earth suddenly cracked open, not far from where the dragon struggled and fumed. Sulfuric heat rose up from out of the widening split, swallowing up the corpses and debris as it inched closer to the dragon’s taloned feet. Soon the blistering steam was joined by hundreds of skeletal creatures crawling out from the depths, as a horrific rendition of Anubis leapt out over them all. He landed squarely on the smoldering earth in his divine manifestation, the vicious jet-black jackal with glowing eyes and pointed teeth, savagely curved claws radiating from his hands. He stood vigil amidst the flames as the daemons of Tartarus scuttled forward to collect their master, their nails popping into its scaly black flesh as they dragged him backwards.
The dragon that was once his beloved companion howled its wrath as it fought fruitlessly against them, severely weakened by the caustic silver searing between its shoulder blades. David flew to the apex of what was left of the castle, captivated by the struggle unfolding before him, watching as the hideous creature that had once struck such terror in his young soul fell helplessly to its death, the all-powerful earth swallowing its prey.
Anubis caught David’s eyes before he jumped in after it, restoring after many eons, the dark gods of the Underworld back to their proper place.
And then, all was still.
The ground smoothly sealed itself as David flew to the ground. He felt the borrowed power drift out of him as he landed, the windstorm giving way to a calm snowfall that drifted sleepily down from the sky. It extinguished the last stubborn flames, the scores of nemorti and their megalomaniac creator, gone for good.
Radu’s sword fell from his hands with a thud and David followed, suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue. A single crow fluttered down to where he lay, carrying Morrigan’s diadem in its mouth. It dropped it before him, scolding him with a squawk.
“Alright, I will keep moving,” he replied weakly, pulling himself up to his feet.
The crow followed him as he shuffled through the charred remains towards the village. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught two bodies folded atop each other, both of which had narrowly avoided incineration and were now collecting snow.
He nearly cried out when he recognized the tattooed flesh of his friend, his wounds so deep, there was no question that he had died in battle. He pulled his broad body off a dismembered Dragos, setting him down flat on a nearby snowbank. His face looked peaceful, white flakes building on his silver beard and eyebrows, giving him the look of a slumbering snow god. David removed the axe he had kept at his side and joined it with its mate, crossing his friend’s arms, an axe in each fist.
He fell to one knee. “May the Valkyries find you in this strange land and carry you swiftly to Valhalla,” he entreated in a low voice.
The crow cawed for him to move on.
He rose once more to his feet, his limbs throbbing as fatigue weighed him down. He reached the edge of the village and froze, finding himself unable to continue forward. While he knew the humans would be grateful to him, perhaps even honoring him as Radu finally took the throne and restored them to a peaceful existence, he feared that all it would do was remind him of that which he’d lost, cementing the grim, unsettling truth that he was now entirely alone.
The thought of an eternity of solitude finally drove him to collapse, his exhaustion victorious, rendering him unable to move from the pile of snow where he’d fallen, despite the crow’s protestations. He stared up at the white and black speckled sky, sighing as the flakes kissed his cheeks and trapped themselves in his eyelashes.
The crow sounded far away now, its pitch revealing an urgency he could not address. David closed his eyes, picturing Morrigan’s face, watching her dance amongst circling flocks of crows.
“It is not time to give up quite yet,” a gentle voice brought him back.
He opened his eyes to see Libraean standing above him. As grateful as he was to see him, he found he had no energy to speak.
“Do not worry, David,” he assured him. “I promised I would look after you, and I intend to do just that.” With a grunt, he hoisted David onto his shoulders, careful not to stab him with his blunted wings.
David made a mental note to thank him, thinking of Morrigan’s brilliant eyes, Lucius’s goblet, and Danulf’s banter, teasing him for passing out yet again, before he gave in to blissful, well-earned rest.
EPILOGUE
LONDON, 1857
David watched the last streams of rain trickle down the window pane, signaling that the storm had finally passed, the only sound left the hum of early autumn crickets and the croaks of distant bullfrogs. Old Man Jacob had cracked the window earlier in the evening after leaving a tray of soup and bourbon, muttering something about old superstitions and stories of souls being trapped behind closed entryways. The tray remained untouched, for his companion never left his arms, her breathing so shallow that the only way he knew she still lived was by the lingering warmth of her skin against the chill of his own.
The completion of his tale left him with a hollowness he had not felt for many years. He had learned to live on after that fateful evening, when he had lost everything he’d come to know, enduring the tedious existence of immortality. He had hoped early on that his memories would fade, and they would trickle away for a time, but then he would catch the scent of a certain wood burning, or hear the faraway call of a crow, or even taste a certain flavor in wine, and he would tumble back into his past. Not long after such a moment occurred, he would be lost to melancholy, unable to leave his study for days, stagnant and staring off into the distant unknown as if he no longer lived in his body. He never remained imprisoned by these lapses for too long, however, for the instinctual drive to feed eventually shook him from his stupor.
Only once had David considered taking his own life, as he lingered out on the hills of his acreage as the sun began to rise. He no longer feared its rays as he once had, the unease replaced by curiosity, wondering what would happen to his soul if his immortal body ceased to be. He knew she would not be waiting for him in the Upperrealms they had once called home, but maybe he could wait there for her, to see if she would arrive? He contemplated the idea as his shirt began to grow damp, his trouser legs sopping up the morning dew.
