A Night of Men and Monsters

Bewildered, I gawk at a figure wearing my own face. "Can't you tell?" it says. "This is only a dream." "You mean you're merely a character in my dream?" I reply. "I'm sorry," the answer bleakly tolls. "I'm not."

1

Darkness had descended upon the fields surrounding the capital city of Highcrest, sending the weary residents of the outlying villages and townships to their beds. But there was a monster winding its way through the broad plains and rolling hills—a vast serpent that bellowed vapor and travelled with a deafening roar. It wrapped its lanky coils around entire hillocks before speeding on, unraveling its massive length across the fields. In spite of the commotion, the sleepy communities paid the creature no mind—this was a common sight, here if nowhere else in the vast empire. It was a steam train, rumbling along its tracks on some late night errand.

As the vast machine charged through a blanket of deep shadows, two dark figures stole their way onboard, leaping deftly from an arched bridge overhead. By the time the cars sped into the moonlight once again, the pair had already vanished from sight.

Many of the cars were loaded with freight of every kind, transporting goods from one end of the capital to the other. This had always been the key purpose of the rail system—which was, without a doubt, the greatest technological achievement of the empire. But some saw profit in using the system as a means of transit, as well, and coaches near the front of the train were meant for carrying travelers.

The passenger cars were dotted with windows on either side, displaying their brightly lit interiors and luxurious, cushioned seats, alongside dark and elegant woodwork. At this late hour, the seats were all but vacant. However, a young woman peered out from one of the softly arched windows, wonder in her eyes. Her complexion was fair and she had chestnut locks, and often she would turn her gentle eyes to the interior of the carriage to flash an unseen companion an innocent smile.

She pointed with glee as the train rounded a bend and shot out across the edge of a lake, the surface of the water reflecting the bright sea of stars above, as if the heavens had come down to touch the earth. The radiance shimmered as the train sped by and, before she knew it, the lake of stars had given way to other lights—hundreds of houses stretched across the landscape, one more footnote in the vastness that was the capital.

She felt another hand rest upon hers, softly, caressing her skin as delicately as a cool breeze. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned to face the other passenger, a man with dark, shoulder length hair. He was dressed elegantly and, though he was clearly many years her senior, the girl seemed captivated by his charming words and striking looks. Aside from these two, the carriage was eerily vacant, leaving the courters alone.

The man leaned forward and whispered softly in her ear. She blushed and smiled, drawing closer as he spoke. She felt his fingers slide slowly up her back and into her hair. He wrapped his fingers through the long, soft strands and pulled them, tenderly, and the girl gasped with both surprise and pleasure. He kissed her lips passionately and, for the young girl who had never been kissed before, his embrace seemed almost magical. She shivered with anticipation as he ran his lips down her soft neck, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.

She shut her eyes tight as the world began to whirl around her. She felt embarrassed—she knew she was trembling, but she couldn't contain her excitement. Rapturous waves of sensation cascaded down her body. This feeling wasn't merely confined to the flesh her companion was kissing so tenderly, but seemed to envelop her entire being, sinking deep into her heart.

With her eyes closed, she wasn't certain what was happening to her—her body felt hot all over, like she was burning up. But the man's flesh was cool to the touch, mild and soothing. She felt herself breathing rapidly, sharp intakes of honey-sweet air. She couldn't seem to open her eyes. But she didn't find herself in a muted darkness—her entire world had slipped toward an oppressive shade of crimson.

What was happening to her?

She snapped to her senses with a gasp as her companion pulled away. Her arms were still wrapped around him, hands clinging desperately to his back, fingertips aching under the trembling pressure. She felt light headed, as if she might faint, and tears were running down her cheeks—she couldn't imagine why.

Her eyes filled with longing and desire, she gazed upon her companion. But, as her lustful vision began to clear, her expression changed. Desire gave way to abject horror.

This wasn't the man she'd boarded the train with—his eyes were no longer kind and gentle, but reflected a savage monstrosity. He was like a feral beast; a nightmare. Long fangs stood exposed behind his lips, and bright red blood was smeared across his chin. Her hand shot to her neck and, when she pulled it away, her white palm was stained scarlet.

She screamed, trying to push the man away, but he pinned her arms above her head with monstrous, inhuman strength. Powerless, the young girl went limp and began to sob, shutting her eyes tight. Her lips moved rapidly as she begged for mercy, or cried for someone to help her, or simply said her final prayer to Aura. She bore the countenance of one who knows she is about to die—unprepared and hopeless. She could do nothing as the monster drew close and began to feed once again.

Her fear subsided as the sharp fangs penetrated her body—terror overwhelmed by lust. She didn't notice when her attacker released her wrists; she didn't use her freedom to try to escape, nor did she scream for help. She wrapped her arms around his body, drawing him in close, and wouldn't let go. Her entire being was filled with ecstasy like nothing she had ever known, and she cried out with pleasure.

2

"Is she alright?" A train official asked uncertainly as a young woman stooped over the motionless girl, placing her fingers lightly upon her pale wrist.

The woman was short, with long blonde hair, and her frame and demeanor seemed almost childlike. The official would have thrown her off the train immediately for not having a ticket, were it not for the bronze amulet she wore around her neck, molded into the shape of a blazing sun. The token designated her as a lightwielder, a child of Aura, and interfering with the work of their holy order was a criminal trespass, sometimes worthy of execution.

He watched attentively as the girl cast her lovely, blue eyes toward the ground and her fair, delicate features grew still as stone. She wore a modish dress of the purest white, traced with fine and elegant embroidery; it laced over her curvaceous chest and fastened tightly just under her neck. The man couldn't help but admire her beauty, but as he looked on he saw her bottom lip had begun to quiver.

"She's dead," the girl whimpered, slumping down to the ground and wrapping her arms around her knees.

The official saw her eyes were red and glossed over with tears. He hadn't expected such a reaction from a lightwielder.

"Miss Peril?" he questioned as he stooped down, bringing himself as near to eye level with the young girl as he could.

"This is the third woman we've found like this tonight!" she cried out suddenly, sobbing and wiping away the tears that had begun streaming down her face. "The monster couldn't possibly still be hungry! It's only feeding out of lust!"

The mention of the vampire that was allegedly running loose on the train sent a shiver down the official's spine. He glanced over his shoulder to the back of the car, but it was still vacant. The lightwielders were supposed to be holy warriors who dealt swift death to dark monsters, defending the citizens of the empire—but he was beginning to doubt this young girl could do anything to stop the blood drinking fiend. She didn't even carry a weapon. He suddenly felt more responsible for her safety than the other way around.

"Are you certain you can face a vampire alone?" he asked, doubt plain in his voice.

Peril sniffed and wiped her eyes, pulling herself to her feet.

"I'm not alone," she explained. "I boarded the train with a friend. I can sense him and the vampire near the end of the train—he's almost caught up to it, now. By the time I get there, the monster will probably already be dealt with."

3

The vampire crept across the narrow ledge of a rumbling freight car, the uneven ground screaming by just a few feet below. On his left were stacks of rough logs, timber on its way to the heart of the capital, piled high and fixed to the bed with heavy chains. The wind rustled madly through his hair and clothes—an ordinary man might have found it difficult to keep his balance while moving at such great velocity. But he pressed on with the ease and grace of a cat, seeming oblivious to the bone shattering drop just a few inches away.

He sniffed the air like a beast. Even with the wind scattering any odors, his magnificently keen senses were able to detect the scent of blood. It was sweet and enticing, the blood of an innocent young girl, but her mortal essence was mixed with that of the divine—a child of Aura. He had no interest in dealing with their kind, and so he'd fled, and it appeared the lightwielder hadn't bothered to follow.

He was beginning to think he could make his escape without being seen—then he heard the frenzied rustling of fabric ahead of him, caught by the rushing air. He turned his predatory eyes toward the source: a man wrapped in a long, sackcloth cloak. He stood motionless on the far side of the carriage, the full moon shining bright in the sky behind him, his long, dark hair tousled by the wind.

The cloak he wore was of an unusual style, with a high collar that obscured the bottom half of his face, rather than a hood. Two weapons were holstered to his back, both of impressive dimension. One was similar to a halberd, though its blade made up nearly as much of the weapon's length as the haft. The instrument had a long reach, and the keen edge was wrought of sanctified steel, an alloy that could bring pain and death to even the darkest monster. Its shape was keenly reminiscent of the blade of a guillotine, with a wide base and a sharply tapered edge.

The second weapon was a broad bladed sword, meant to be wielded with both hands, nearly as long as its wielder was tall. The instrument's sheath concealed the blade, but the cross-guard swept up elegantly toward the point, and the handle was bound with dark leather. Its pommel was shaped like an inverted pyramid, remarkable for both its plainness and its perfection.

In spite of the large and intimidating weaponry, the bearer appeared quite young—not yet even a man. He was tall for his age, and scrawny, but his eyes were fierce. Even the vampire shrunk back before those eyes. Around his neck hung the sun-symbol of the children of Aura, but the vampire knew at once this was no lightwielder.

"I smell a child of darkness," he hissed knowingly at his interceptor. "Why do you wear that cursed idol?"

The man in the cloak stuck out his chin and crossed his arms over his chest.

"They call me a proxy lightwielder," he explained in a calm voice, eyes never wavering from his adversary, even as the world whipped by around them. "My name is Koristad Altessor, son of Arach the Black Guardian. I'm here to stop you before you can hurt anyone else."

The vampire grinned wickedly and replied, "You stop me? Where does this confidence come from? I am the darkness itself—I am one of the immortals. You are nothing to me, boy."

Koristad smiled and answered back, "I like the sound of that. It's almost as if you might prove to be a real challenge." He sighed and cracked his knuckles, "But you appear to be unarmed. How do you plan on fighting me?"

He drew the sword from his back, the ring of leather on steel scattering on the wind as the naked blade flashed in the moonlight. This was the legendary Executor Blade, a holy weapon meant to be wielded by the high executor that had, by chance or fate, found its way into the young necromancer's hands.

With a deep scowl, the vampire took a step forward and wrapped its white fingers around one of the thick chains that secured the stack of logs to the car. The monster's muscles grew tense and he let out a grunt of exertion. The heavy, iron links snapped with a metallic pop, loud as a cracking whip, as the vampire towed the long cable free of its bonds. The stack of logs groaned and shifted dangerously, and may have spilled over both sides (taking both of the men with them), but the other anchors held firm.

With a malevolent sneer, the vampire wrapped the chain around his arm. The iron was heavy, and certainly never meant to be a weapon—even a strong man would have found it almost impossible to swing, especially while trying to balance on the edge of a moving rail car. But in an instant the metal links were whirling over the vampire's head, buzzing through the air with a high pitched scream. It appeared his enemy wasn't as unarmed as Koristad had thought.

"I couldn't just keep my mouth shut, could I?" he groaned to himself, shaking his head.

The makeshift implement was remarkably fast and deadly; Koristad leapt back, quick as a fleeting shadow, as the iron whirred frighteningly close to his body. The stack of timber absorbed the impact, the velocity of the outermost links turning the wood into a shower of splinters and debris.

As dangerous as the heavy chain seemed to be, it bore a considerable weakness. Its momentum was lost as it struck the impediment, and it would take a moment for it to be readied again, even by the preternaturally quick monster. Koristad adjusted his balance and made a wild lunge toward his opponent, sword poised for a powerful crosscut. He didn't even check his footing, the danger of the narrow ledge and racing ground below purged from his mind in the instant before the attack.

The monster pulled the thick chain taut and held it before him to absorb the strike, the iron links bending to the point of breaking before they finally stopped the deadly sword.

"You're much sturdier than a mere necromancer," the vampire said with a grimace, arms shaking. "And your speed rivals that of the immortals. You're more than you seem, aren't you, proxy lightwielder?"

"I'm only getting started!"

With a feral growl, the vampire feinted his attack, causing Koristad to stumble forward before he could check his balance. It was now quite plain who had the edge in raw strength. The monster made a broad, backwards leap onto the next carriage, this one stacked high with crates covered in brown canvas. He slid to a rough stop, struggling to steady his momentum and keep hold of his makeshift weapon.

By the time Koristad had regained his balance, the deadly chain was spinning through the air once again. He grimaced at the weapon—its motion was too rapid and unpredictable to keep track of. He had to do something about the implement—if he allowed the vampire to continue fighting with it, it would only be a matter of time before he was on the receiving end.

The chain screamed toward him, a high swing aimed for his skull. He immediately dropped to one knee and held the Executor Blade over his head. The links struck the sword, nearly knocking it from his hands, but he held on tight, refusing to let go. The chain wrapped around the blade over and over, holding it firm, and the vampire grinned at his assailant.

"I have you now, proxy lightwielder," he gloated. "You can lose your sword, or you can hold on and be thrown from the train. Either way, this battle is over."

Koristad's response was instantaneous and decisive—in a sudden, powerful motion, he thrust the point of the Executor Blade into the stack of timber, burying the blade midway to the hilt. The vampire yanked on the chain to free it, but it was stuck tight.

Quick as a flash, Koristad drew the halberd from his back and dashed toward his enemy. The vampire's face was filled with astonishment and fear. At the last moment, the monster released his grip on the iron links—relinquishing his only weapon—but it was too late. The sanctified steel slashed through his outstretched arm, severing it with a spurt of dark blood.