Chapter 51

Day 202:

Their second night in the jungle was when things came apart. They’d traveled for two days, turning to head directly into the thickest, wettest, deadliest part after midday that first morning. The trees they walked between emitted a rotting musk, and their boots squelched deep into soft, clinging, stinky mud. Detouring around puddles eventually devolved into slogging across putrid, stagnant ponds. Anything deeper than their knees had to be avoided, and they lost count of how many times they’d backtracked. There was no way to clean themselves off, and hardly a dry patch to camp on.

Luckily, their one saving grace was a combination of Dulgan’s foresight, and Bokhir’s skills. The Dwimar Master had bought several hammocks as they traversed the various clan rooms; he’d stuffed them into pockets on both his and John’s packs. There weren’t enough for everyone, but the Powry scout showed them how to combine what they had (plus his own) to create a makeshift treehouse where they could sleep in a close group. It was far from the most comfortable outdoor camping John had ever done, and left them vulnerable which grated on John even if there wasn’t anything else they could do.

He continued the two-on-watch policy, specifying that whoever was awake must periodically check in audibly with their partner. The swamp was pitch black at night, dim even to John’s Sight. Hearing was their best asset, but half the Dwarves snored terribly, so sentries were less effective than they might have been. All of which was why only John’s ears caught it, and no one else did.

A crackling noise, like an arc-welder or static discharge. Nothing natural that John knew made a sound like that. And if this world had an animal or person who could, they were undoubtedly a significant threat. He was just beginning to doubt his hearing, when he picked out a faint voice too. Whispering in the dark is more noticeable than just speaking at a very low volume, which this person obviously knew.

Mumble, mumble, “ ... again.”

Followed by a repeat of the crackle. Cursing silently to himself, John clucked their agreed-upon alert signal. The two on watch, John couldn’t tell whom by sound, both replied. He slithered his way across the pile to whisper in the nearest one’s ear.

“Someone’s nearby.” He hissed.

It was Bokhir, who impressed John with a level head.

“Only wake the not-snorers.” The Powry suggested.

Good idea. Then whoever it was wouldn’t know more than half were awake already.

They worked their way around the cluster of bodies, clamping hands over shocked mouths and breathing urgent alerts in straining ears. They were each on their second person when a huge gust of wind picked up and one of the tree branches sagged deeply. John’s face jerked to the side, eye scanning for the source.

They’d seen a few undead animals during the trek so far, though only one had been even a minor threat. A large lizard had burst from its hiding place on their flank. It charged and tried to clamp its jaws around Hekruik’s ankle. The hard-bitten Dvergyr barely broke stride as his blade separated the reptile’s head from its shoulders. With a kick that would’ve done any World Cup player proud, he’d sent the skull winging its way across a nearby thicket.

In addition, John still remembered his extensive examination of the draugyr in the Ice Crag, and of Nefiume during their yachting days. The figure perched a few feet away, where the limb forked looked nothing like any of the above types. It was humanoid, with talon-capped hands gripping the wood. The robe it wore broke up the thing’s silhouette, but John could See right into the hood. Red-tinted eyes stared at him over a fanged snarl. Behind the pointed incisors and uncanny gaze was the same ugly menace he’d Seen in the Onyxhart guard’s superior. A central core of intense heat radiated from the skull and throat, fading to lukewarm along the limbs.

Vampyr! The Tooth called. Burn it with fire!

John wasn’t really in a good position for a throw, but the Vampyr had raised a hand and John had no desire to see what nastiness would result. He backhanded the ax and rolled to follow.

“To arms! Enemy in the trees!” John yelled as he moved.

The Tooth flew true, slamming into the Vampyr’s chest and igniting with a splash of red-orange flames. John monkey-crawled after to knock the enemy off. That was when the Vampyr laughed. A shrill shriek of amusement rang out, giving him goosebumps. The creature grabbed the Tooth and pulled her out. With a casual toss over one shoulder, the ax plummeted toward the ground.

The vamp’s other hand was still raised, and before John could reach his target lightning shot from the Vampyr’s fingertips. With a blast that would’ve made the Emperor in Star Wars envious, a curtain of electricity descended on the Dwarves’ heads. Cries of pain and fear erupted from the half-sleeping troop. Sacrificing himself, John launched into a dive, intending to knock the Vampyr off with his body.

A massive gust of wind blew him right off the branch. He barely snagged a single handhold as he went over, preventing himself from falling. With a kip, he got both hands onto the wood and looked up right into the vamp’s face. Plump lips smiled evilly as it reached out with a single elongated nail to scratch the back of John’s hand. His skin parted like butter under a hot knife, and pain bloomed. Knowing he couldn’t stay like this, and that falling would put him out of the fight, he tried to do a pull-up.

But his arms wouldn’t work properly. They barely flexed. Then came a boom from the trunk below. The entire tree shivered with vibration and John’s hands failed him.

As he fell to the ground below, the Vampyr winked and quipped, “The most important thing in life is learning how to fall.”

In English.

He slammed into the marshy dirt and his head cracked against one of the tree’s roots. Stars burst across his vision as he yelled at himself to get up. All he got for his effort was a ridiculous flop onto his face. After that, he couldn’t move at all.

His body was completely paralyzed. Oh, he could feel everything. He wasn’t numb, and except from an inability to move nothing else seemed to be getting worse personally. Unfortunately, that was enough. He listened in helpless rage as the vamp cackled, a booming crash nearby at ground level repeated every few seconds, and his Dwarf friends’ voices turned from anger to panicked screams.

Then it started raining bodies. Pain-wracked groans accompanied the heavy thuds as Dwarves fell from the tree like overripe melons. A familiar voice hollered an unintelligible war-cry and John heard the ghastly sound of something heavy cracking a skull. Mud squelched nearby as whoever it was stomped around, repeating the life-ending blows on other Dwarves. Unable to help himself, John counted five as he put every ounce of willpower into moving a single inch. Tears dripped helplessly from his eyes into the dirt.

Another gust of wind ruffled John’s hair. He heard a second set of feet moving around. A line of pain scraped across the back of his neck, before he was kicked. The massive boot flipped him jarringly onto his back. Two faces, one he recognized and one he’d just seen in the tree above studied him.

“The King sends his regards.” Kertug sneered.

He kicked John’s side once more, below his ribs. Nausea crawled up John’s throat, burning without an outlet.

“Are you finished?” A high-pitched voice fell from the Vampyr’s lips.

“I have not damaged him.” Kertug defended himself.

The vamp sighed. “Go check the others. Make sure they’re all dead.”

Kertug disappeared. John could only listen helplessly as the brute hammered several more Dwarves mercilessly. Their disregarded pleas for mercy tore John’s heart to pieces.

“You get them all?” The Vampyr asked, when Kertug’s steps continued without any blows.

“I count ten.” Kertug replied after an agonizing moment. “Not including this one.”

John’s blood boiled at that report.

“I left two up there, for my meal.” The Vampyr said.

“One is missing.” Kertug growled.

“Find him!” The vamp insisted.

Another gust of wind and John watched the robed figure leap right up into the branches above. Two more Dwarf bodies were tossed bonelessly into the mud beyond John a few minutes later. Neither verbalized any pain after hitting.

“I don’t see anyone else!” The vamp called.

“Then he is gone.” Kertug sounded indifferent.

“He won’t get far, not all alone out here.” The Vampyr decided.

The vamp leaped back down and produced a set of manacles for John’s wrists and ankles. Then the pair methodically looted the Dwarf corpses. After a while, he was unceremoniously hoisted over Kertug’s shoulder and the half-Orc strode off. The Vampyr grumbled under its breath as it hurried to catch up.

They walked for over an hour before the giant called a halt. He marched up onto a small knoll and slung John to the ground like a sack of grain. John’s head, neck and arms were rubbed raw by that point. He even felt a trickle of blood slowly spreading through his hair. Another thump beside him followed shortly.

“Why do you stop?” The Vampyr asked impatiently. “There are many more hours until dawn.”

Kertug grunted. “Time for me to sleep. Carry him further, if you wish.”

The Vampyr stepped by John’s head, glaring at something else. He assumed it was the half-Orc.

“What are you planning?” The vamp asked thoughtfully.

“Do not worry about it.” Kertug insisted. “Sleep, or feed, or go, it makes no difference to me.”

Robes billowed out as the vamp squatted between John and the Dwarf. A nail traced a line of fire down his cheek.

“Now, you stay still while I’m busy.” The Vampyr muttered.

The black-clad figure bent over the Dwarf lying next to him and John got a front row seat to wet slurping sounds and other disgusting noises. Each time, just when John thought the ability to move was coming back, the vamp would reach back and scratch his arm, or neck. Whatever those nails did was keeping him immobilized. All he could do was breathe, and blink occasionally. He couldn’t even swallow, just drool from the corners of his mouth.

Finally, the Vampyr sat upright with a sigh of contentment. A ghastly, blood-streaked face oriented on him again.

“There.” The vamp said, when done. “Now we wait a few moments for the poison to metabolize out.”

The English word ‘metabolize’ was jarring, mixed in with the others.

John’s involuntary swallows, ridding his mouth of saliva alerted his jailer that he was regaining his motor control. A long-nailed hand rested on his chest. The talons clicked distractingly on his armor.

“Now,” the Vampyr warned, “I can easily return you to the paralytic state, with just a tiny scratch from one of these.”

A finger lifted, confirming John’s hypothesis.

“If you answer my questions, I’ll let you stay un-paralyzed. But if you refuse...”

He coughed. “Wha—what do you want to know?”

A smile that might have once been attractive flashed at him. Too bad the fangs ruined the effect. Well, that and his all-encompassing desire to crush the life out of this cockroach vamp.

“Everything!” The Vampyr exclaimed. “But we will start with the simple things first. Are you a Visitor from Earth?”

The question was in English, so even acknowledging it would give an answer. He needed some information though, and the only way to get it was to play along.

“Not anymore.” John hedged. “I’m trapped here, and can’t go back.”

The vamp looked surprised. “How? You walked all across the Southern Clandoms with your friend proclaiming that you travel using magic rocks. I presume that’s his way of explaining using the funeral portals to people who don’t have any of them.”

“I can use the portals, sure.” John admitted, since he was at a serious information disadvantage. “But I’m not able to go back to Earth. It’s blocked, for some reason.”

The vamp stroked its chin. “That is really strange. You have no messages or updates from the others back on Earth?”

John shook his head. “I’ve gotten nothing from Earth since the last time I came through.”

“When was that?”

John thought for a minute. He needed it to be believable. “Several months ago. I’m not sure of the exact time. They don’t exactly have calendars around here.”

“They tricked you into coming here, like they did to me?” The vamp asked next.

“I wouldn’t say tricked, no.” John denied. “I felt like they were as up front with me as they could be, considering.”

The vamp gave him a disbelieving look. “Considering what?”

“Considering that it’s been months since my body back home’s had anything to eat.” He lied. “If I’m dead, how am I still imagining this? If not, how’s that even possible?”

The vamp smiled again. “Have you not figured it out yet?”

“What’s that?” John frowned.

“You’re not imagining this world, because it’s real. Actually real, not a simulation or whatever falsehood they fed you. If you haven’t been back to Earth in months, it’s likely that your connection to that place is cut or turned off or whatever.” She declared.

“You think so?” John pulled his frown deeper.

The vamp snorted. “I know this to be so. You would be wise to realize that this place isn’t like your world. You would have to perform a task to prove yourself, but if you asked the King for mercy I believe he would consider it. Your escape from the Legion alone proved how resourceful you are. The King is a man who values the highly capable.”

No way would even this monster believe he changed his mind this quickly.

“I ... don’t think I could do that.”

The vamp shook its head reprovingly. “You are an idiot then. And when we return to the Wall, you’ll regret not taking the chance he’s given you.”

“Maybe so.” He hedged. “Uh, can you tell me your name? I presume you already know mine.”

“Oh yes, John Morgan. I know your name.” The Vampyr assured him.

A sly smile bloomed on that horrible visage. “As for me, I’m called L’vira.”

John gave her a disbelieving look. “Elvira? Really?”

He got a finger wag back. “L! L’vira. But it’s funny, no?”

John forced a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He spent the next few hours tiredly lying his ass off. Some things he told the truth on: his crippled status (which earned no sympathy, unfortunately), that he was the twenty-sixth ‘subject’ in the project, and admitted to knowing the main project personnel since none of that would help or hurt, here. As for his time in this world, he’d already told the King about doing the Challenges, so lying there would be stupid. He did play up his time with the Raiders, embellishing his enthusiasm for their bloodthirsty ways. But he avoided all mention of Veronyka being in this world, or his other friends. He let the implication be that he’d joined the Raider group by himself.

He did manage to find out that L’vira had been turned into a Vampyr shortly after first arriving. He never got her real name, but L’vira did admit to having once been a subject too. The details were sparse, but John wondered if being changed hadn’t prevented her from going back to Earth for some reason. He seemed to remember ‘Vampyr’ being one of the choices that the guys he’d brought over were presented with, but wasn’t sure. None of it made any sense to him, and from L’vira’s reticence he knew he was missing a large part of the story.

Dawn’s dim light began filtering through the trees before he was done. Kertug stirred then, eyes falling on him with the same studied indifference from the night before.

“You have not fed on him, good.” The half-Orc said.

A biscuit and a canteen came flying into his lap.

“Eat, drink.” Kertug ordered, doing the same himself.

Knowing how bad things could get, John obeyed without complaint. If they wanted to poison him, all the Vampyr had to do was give him another scratch.

When he was done, Kertug stood up and stretched.

“I will be gone for a few days.” He told L’vira. “Will you wait here, or meet me at the fort?”

The Vampyr looked shocked. “Gone? Where do you plan to go? After that last Dwarf? You know he won’t last long. He’s not important.”

“The Dwarf? I will kill him if I see him, but no that is not my purpose.” Kertug asserted.

“Then where? What are you doing? There’s nothing else here for us unless you’re ... going to...” The Vampyr’s voice faded out. “Challenge.”

Kertug was obstinate. “Where I go is my own business. Is this where you remain, or not?”

L’vira pointed at John. “This is our purpose, right here. What could you possibly be going to do that’s more important, other than the Challenge?”

“Wait. Or not then.” Kertug turned away.

The Vampyr was shocked. “You expect me to keep him prisoner, by myself?”

The half-Orc shrugged, not pausing his march into the jungle. “Chain him to a tree, they seem solid enough.”

Which is how John ended up chained with his arms and legs wrapped around a medium-sized trunk, while L’vira snoozed against another tree several yards off. The Tooth and Cleaver appeared sometime later, but he couldn’t reach them in their spots on his belt.

Day 203:

John dozed with his face resting against the rough bark as the day wore on. It wasn’t the most comfortable place, but he was drained emotionally and needed the recharge. L’vira slept until the day’s light faded without once checking on him that he could tell.

If it was the last thing he did, John was going to kill this murderous vamp. Then track down her half-Orc partner and visit more pain on that brute than he could imagine. Various torturous fantasies were running through his mind when he noticed a figure in dark clothing standing on the far side of the Vampyr’s tree. The person was carrying an odd two-headed spear, with about three inches between the blades. To his Sight, this was also a Vampyr, who raised a hand to cover its mouth when it noticed John Staring that way.

John had no desire to be eaten by a random roving blood-sucker. At least with L’vira he knew she was under orders to bring him back. Which fit nicely with his plan to kill her and Kertug as painfully as he could. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but the new Vampyr was already moving. That strange spear neatly cupped L’vira’s neck from the back and the force of the blow put her face-down into the dirt.

Incoherent threats and demands wailed from her throat. Soon more of the newcomer’s friends slipped between the trees. They filtered in like ghosts until John and L’vira were surrounded. Several glanced John’s way, but once they’d satisfied their curiosity, or evaluated him as no threat their attention returned to where John’s jailer struggled on the ground.

A voice laden with revulsion spilled from one of the new vamps. “You were told not to return.”