Anemoi 16 – Anemoi 17, Imperial Year 1645
The Eastern Plains – The Merchant Road
They left the grove at dawn. The sky was grey, the air heavy with the promise of rain. Orin walked at the head of the column, his arm still bound, his sword at his hip. Dain limped beside him, axe over his shoulder. Isolde ranged ahead, bow in hand, her ears twitching at every sound. Finnian brought up the rear, his repaired spider clicking along beside him. Selene walked in the middle, silent, her hand pressed to her chest.
The road was empty. The merchant caravan they'd been hired to escort was already three days ahead, probably assuming they were dead.
"We're going the wrong way," Dain said. He didn't look at Orin. He looked at the road.
"Nearest port," Orin replied. "Supplies. Information."
"We need coin."
"Coin comes after."
Dain grunted. He didn't argue.
The Road – Midday
They stopped at a stream to water the horses. Isolde knelt by the bank, cupping water to her face. Finnian sat on a rock, tweaking the spider's legs. Selene stood apart, staring at the trees.
Orin walked over to her.
"You haven't eaten."
She didn't turn. "Not hungry."
"You need to keep your strength."
"For what?" Her voice was flat. "Can't fight. Can't cast. Barely walk."
Orin stood beside her. He didn't touch her. He just stood there.
"You're still here."
"Nowhere else to go."
"That's not the same as wanting to be."
Selene finally looked at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but dry.
"No," she said. "It's not."
She walked back to the horses.
Orin watched her go. His hand tightened on his sword hilt. Then he let go.
The Road – Afternoon
The rain started as a drizzle, then a downpour. They took shelter under a rocky overhang, the horses tethered to a fallen tree. Dain built a small fire – wet wood, stubborn flames. Isolde wrung out her hair. Finnian covered his spider with a cloth.
Selene sat with her back to the rock, knees drawn up. Orin sat across from her.
"That witch," Dain said, breaking the silence. "She wanted us alive."
"Experiments," Isolde said. "Or sacrifices."
"Or both." Finnian adjusted his goggles. "The cults, though? Dawn Queen's knights have been cleaning them out for months."
"That's the problem," Orin said. "Witches are filling the gap. Getting bolder."
Dain poked the fire. "That hunter. Alucard. He knew what he was doing."
"Knew too much," Isolde said.
"He saved us."
"Not complaining. Just observing."
Finnian looked up. "His sword. Wolf's head pommel. I've seen that design before."
"Where?" Orin asked.
"In a dream." Finnian shrugged. "Or a memory. Don't know anymore."
The fire crackled. Rain pattered on the rock.
"He's not from here," Selene said. Quiet. But everyone heard.
"What do you mean?" Dain asked.
"Not from this world." She looked at the flames. "The way he moves. Fights. Doesn't explain himself. He's like us."
"Like us?" Isolde's brow furrowed.
"Lost."
Silence.
Orin broke it. "If he's like us, why didn't he say anything?"
"Would you?" Selene asked.
He didn't answer.
The Overhang – Evening
The rain stopped. The clouds broke, and the last light of the sun painted the sky orange and purple. Dain cooked a thin stew – dried meat, roots, water. Not good, but hot.
Isolde ate in silence. Finnian fed a piece of bread to his spider. Selene picked at her bowl.
Orin set down his spoon.
"We need to decide."
"Find work," Dain said. "We're mercenaries. That's what we do."
"Find Alucard," Isolde said.
Everyone looked at her.
"He knows something. About the witches. About whatever's coming." She met Orin's eyes. "Can't fight blind."
"He saved us once," Finnian said. "Might not do it again."
"Then we make him."
Dain snorted. "Make him? You saw what he did to that witch. You want to fight him?"
"I want to talk to him."
"Same thing, with that one."
Isolde almost smiled. "Maybe."
Orin stood. "Head to the port. Collect our pay. Ask about Alucard. If we find him, good. If not…" He shrugged. "Keep moving."
"That's not a plan," Selene said.
"It's the only one we have."
She nodded slowly. "Then it's a plan."
The Night – Watch
Orin took first watch. The others slept – Dain snoring, Isolde curled around her bow, Finnian curled around his spider, Selene lying still, eyes closed but breathing uneven.
He sat with his back to a rock, sword across his knees. Stars came out. Wind smelled of wet earth.
Alucard.
He turned the name over. Dracula backwards. A child's reference. A secret handshake. A message.
He knows, Orin thought. He knows who we are. And he's not telling.
Grateful or angry?
Probably both.
End of Chapter One Hundred Three