Iron and Magic

Hugh let them come, gripping his sword with both hands in front of him, aiming to impale the front bloodsucker. The undead charged at him, eyes burning with red. The real fight wasn’t here. It was with the man behind the vampire, and that man had drilled Nez’s tactics until they became second nature.

So had Hugh.

At the last moment, the vamp twisted to the left, relying on its superior speed, counting on him to thrust. Had Hugh lunged, the blade of his sword would’ve missed the bloodsucker by an inch, leaving his own left flank completely exposed. Instead he stepped forward with his right foot and turned left, stepping back and driving the blade with all his weight. His sword caught the vamp just above the collar bone, severing the neck. Hugh turned into the spin, raising his blade, and brought his sword straight down, cleaving the second vamp’s head like a ripe melon.

The third undead spun, twisting away from his sword, bounced off the ground, and leapt at him. Hugh dodged. Claws grazed his shoulder. Hugh took the hit and smashed the back of his sword into the base of the vampire’s skull as it tore past him. The undead stumbled forward. Hugh kicked it in the back, stomping hard on the spine. The vamp sprawled on the ground, and Hugh drove his sword straight down, through the back into the heart. Contain this.

The whole thing took less than two seconds.

His heart beat faster. The world turned crystal clear. This – this – was living.

Hugh freed the blade with a sharp tug. All around him battle boiled. The Dogs struck at the vampires. Two boudas locked on one bloodsucker from opposite sides and tore it apart like a blood-filled ragdoll. He flicked the blood off his blade and dove into the slaughter, looking for something to kill.

Hugh surveyed the field. No undead moved. The smears of their magic had faded. Nine serious gashes, two broken limbs, no casualties on their side. His people had the element of surprise and magic on their side. Everything except dead could be fixed.

A blood-stained bouda strode toward him, seven feet tall and corded with muscle under sparse fur. They really did look like shit in warrior form. Part of the reason why Roland detested them, Hugh suspected. The human and animal meld wasn’t graceful. This one, at least, was more cohesive than most.

The bouda unhinged his jaws. “Motherrrrfuckrr,” Ascanio snarled.

Most shapeshifters couldn’t speak in warrior form. Their jaws didn’t fit together correctly. Hugh was right before. It was better to kill the kid now and avoid complications.

“You used us as bait!”

“Shut up,” Hugh told him. “You’re still breathing.”

“How did you know?”

“I knew because I’ve been a warlord longer than you’ve been alive.” Hugh nodded at a fresh detachment of Dogs riding up to them. “This is your escort to the ley line.”

“You could’ve told us!”

“You wouldn’t have believed me. Tell Shrapshire I have no problem with him when you get home.”

Ascanio towered over him.

“Are you going to stand here all day with your dick in your hand? You’re losing the light.”

The kid turned, snarling orders under his breath.

He watched the shapeshifter wagons roll past him, the shapeshifters in warrior forms running along the sides, their horses hitched to the back. A little girl, no more than two or three, stared at him from the second wagon, her big dark eyes round and terrified on her brown face.

She would get where she needed to go. They did that much.

For some odd reason, that thought brought Hugh satisfaction. He puzzled over it. It shouldn’t have mattered. She was a random child. She didn’t belong to any of his people. They had no connection to each other and he would never see her again.

“Preceptor,” Lamar said next to him.

Hugh rested the sword on his shoulder and turned.

A figure in a green dress stood on the wall of the castle. He couldn’t see her face, but she stood with her feet planted and her arms crossed.

He growled low in his throat.

“Do you require backup?” Lamar asked quietly.

“No.” Elara was his wife. He would handle her himself. For now, he’d let her stew.

Hugh took his time supervising the loading of the undead bodies on the cart. By that point, a group of Elara’s people had showed up with bags of salt, and jugs of water and gasoline, and set about purging the traces of undead blood. When Hugh truly had nothing left to do, he whistled for Bucky and rode him back to the castle, the Dogs and the wagon loaded with undead right behind him.

He got there just as Bale came running from within the castle, half-dressed, his hair sticking up.

“Vampires!” Bale bellowed and pointed behind them. “You fought vampires and I didn’t get to go?”

The Dogs snickered. Hugh cracked a smile.

“It was a glorious battle,” Lamar said. “You slept through it all.”

Bale stared at him, incredulous. “You took Lamar? Lamar instead of me?”

“Don’t worry,” Lamar said. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

Bale shook his arms and howled at the sky. “There is no justice in the world!”

The Dogs laughed. Hugh chuckled, dismounted, and took Bucky to the stables. This was good. They all needed a victory after getting their assess handed to them for the last eight months and this one was theirs alone. The shapeshifters helped, but the victory belonged to the Dogs.

Hugh was settling Bucky into his stall when he heard light footsteps. She’d chased him down.

“A word in private, Preceptor.”

“Not right now,” he told her without bothering to look at her face.

“Yes, now. You put children in danger. You didn’t tell me what you were going to do. I could’ve helped. We could’ve killed them without jeopardizing the shapeshifters.”

He turned to her. Fury lit her eyes. Her mouth was a flat narrow line. She was clenching her teeth. She wasn’t just mad; she was livid.

“First, I’m going to take care of my horse. Then, I’m going to change and wash the blood from my face. If I feel like talking then, you can come and discuss whatever it is. Or you can make a hysterical scene right here in the stables where everyone can hear us. Your choice.”

He turned to Bucky. When he looked back, Elara was gone.

Hugh opened his eyes. A square room stood before him, the stone walls lit by the gentle glow of electric lamps. A square pool took up nearly the entire floor, with a three-foot walkway along the walls. Five steps led into the pool. The water lay placid, reflecting the light of the lamps. The soothing aroma of lavender and jasmine floated in the air.

How the hell did he get here? He looked over his shoulder. Another chamber, shrouded in gloom. The last thing he remembered was going upstairs to his room. He’d showered, had a steak sent up from the kitchen, ate it all, washed it down with some beer, and passed out on his bed.

A quiet feminine laughter floated to him. He turned back. Three girls soaked in the pool. One sat on his right, kicking her feet gently in the water, her long blond hair spilling over soft glowing skin. A brunette waited straight ahead, her plump breasts lifted slightly by the water. On the left a redhead sat, half-submerged on the steps, her long hair swirling in the water.

A dream. And a nice one. A welcome change from the usual shit he dreamt about. Whatever they brewed in that beer, he would need more of it.

The brunette raised her hands and stood up, her arms opened wide, exposing her breasts with pretty pink nipples. “Hugh!”

“Join us,” the blond giggled.

His clothes were missing. He was already hard. Hugh walked into pool. The water was hot. The aroma of lavender grew stronger. The redhead wound herself around him, the blue eyes on her freckled face laughing at him. The blond jumped into the water and surfaced next to him. The brunette kneaded his shoulders. He pulled the blond closer, her skin slick against his own, her body pliant under his fingers. Oh yes. Yes, that would do.

“Enjoying yourself?” Elara said.

She stood at the steps. Her hair was down, a soft silky cascade. She wore a simple white dress. It left her shoulders bare. A slit climbed its way up the skirt, revealing a leg with a slender ankle and rounded thigh.

Even better. “Come into the pool,” Hugh said.