The Champions (8 page)

“Just because signs of their ailments are gone does not mean
they are not infectious,” Steven whispered.

“All of them were bitten. Since no others came with the same
symptoms without being bitten, I think it safe to say you can only be infected
in that manner, Steven,” Peter replied.

Several healers stood then, and each of them moved dutifully
about the room. Steven approached patient nine.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Swiveling his head to meet the gaze of the man above him,
patient nine smiled, appearing normal by all accounts.

“I feel better than ever,” the patient replied. “I don’t
suppose you could unbind me so that I might go relieve myself?”

Peter thought it over before responding to the question.

“Perhaps in a moment,” Peter answered. “My name is Peter,
and I have a couple of questions for you first.”

“I am Edward, and I happily oblige,” said the patient.

“OK Edward, throughout the day you awoke screaming and
yelling of unholy things. Do you remember?”

Edward closed his eyes a moment, and keeping them closed he
began his reply. “I had visions of war, with blood and gore, beasts and
monsters. Most I am sure would have considered them nightmares.”

“You called out to someone. Do you remember who?” Peter
questioned further.

“Yes,” Edward smiled. “Amongst the nightmares, I momentarily
had a dream. I was in my home village and I had fallen in love with a young
woman who had just moved there. Though for as much as I desired her, I could
not be myself with her. Also she was friends with one of the wolfmen we fought
today,” Edward replied with a smirk.

“So was it her name you cried out?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

“Why is it that in this dream you were not able to be
yourself with her?” Peter continued his questions.

“Because I sparkled in the sun, and secretly I wanted to
make a sandwich of her,” Edward answered, grinning.

“That is absurd,” Peter replied and began untying Edward’s
restraints.

Looking around the room, he saw that all the men were being
unrestrained. The healers had each risen from their chairs to help untie their
patients. None saw the attack coming.

One second the tent was a place of calm serenity as
caregivers tended to those they cared for; the next it was a bloodbath.

Overcome by uncontrollable urges thirteen patients grasped
the nearest person to them, and clinging to them, bit into their flesh. Some
pulled the clerics down upon them on the tables, others leapt upon the healers,
driving them to the ground. Only one exit existed in the tent; all the other
sides of the thick canvas were staked deep into the earth.

None of the clerics reacted immediately, so completely
overcome by the attack. For a second an unnatural hush fell over the tent as
the first wave of victims were bled, completing the transformation of the
re-risen soldiers. The silence did not last long. A moment later one of the
clerics shrieked as others began to yell and run for the exit. Discarding their
current victims the newly revived soldiers moved with inhuman speed and agility
to cut off those who attempted to retreat.

Bashing heads and backhanding those clerics who remained,
within seconds the screams ceased. Each of the thirteen fed upon one victim
after another, tasting each new flesh for a moment before moving on. So new and
wondrous was the world with their new bodies and senses, that less than two
minutes after the attack had started the infected soldiers fled the tent,
leaving all but one cleric alive. Spreading out in all directions the infected
searched for new sources of blood within Sigrant’s giant encampment. Every
feeding made them stronger. Every experience made them crave the next that much
more.

Just five hours later, still a full two hours before
daybreak, the clerics began to awake for the fourth time, as did random others
throughout the camp.

*****

Edward reveled in the changes that had overcome his body. It
was as if each experience was a new one, a better one. He moved from tent to
tent with astonishing speed, silencing quickly any who thought to raise an
alarm. He fed time and time again, each time growing stronger, each time luxuriating
in the pleasure it brought him.

Occasionally he heard a scream and knew that one of his
brethren had found another victim. Still no alarm had been raised. He was
secure in the fact as he followed the scent he had picked up only moments ago.
It hinted of women and girls, flowers and honey. To Edward it was almost as if
someone had designed a meal just for him. He could not resist it.

Circuitously he followed the scent, imagining he would come
to the encampment of whores the king brought to reward his men after a
victorious battle. Here would be near half a thousand women of varying age and
proportions to choose from. An endless supply of pleasure. Edward smiled a
wicked grin and rounded the corner. The scent of perfume hit him like a brick
wall, only there were not lines of guarded whores. A single crimson tent stood
before Edward reeking of sex and perfume. He could hear the hearts beating
within and lustily his mouth began to water.

Looking around to be sure none would notice, Edward scaled
the outside wall of the tent, bunching the thick canvas in his fists to get
hand holds. Reaching the seam where the top of the tent met the wall he forced
his fingers between the stitching and began to pull slowly. Quietly He opened a
hole large enough to pass through and carefully he pulled himself the remaining
distance up to it. Using his arms to open the gap he had created, Edward
dropped through the hole to land upon a padded cushion.

More than two dozen women lay randomly about the room, each
and every one of them nude. Garments lay about the floor seemingly discarded
without a care. Edward had found that which he sought. Naught but a single male
inhabited the room, though just outside the canvas walls were several more. He
would have to be exceedingly careful not to wake anyone.

Carefully Edward positioned himself over his first victim.
Looking upon her small body he imagined her barely old enough to wed. She was
developed enough physically to be called a woman he supposed, not that it
mattered. Clamping her small mouth shut with one hand, her eyes popped open the
same second he wrenched back her head. Edward pushed himself inside her at the
same time that he bit into her flesh. Ecstasy.

*****

Sara paced just outside the firelight that Seth worked from.
Something was inherently wrong, though she was as yet unsure as to what exactly
that was. Only moments before she had felt it, the same as she had felt it each
time she fed. It was to a much smaller degree, of course, but none the less it
had been there. In the darkness, alone, Sara felt something new grow within
her. With it came a surge of pleasure of the likes she experienced when
feeding. She felt herself grow stronger by a miniscule amount. Over the ensuing
hour it happened well over two hundred more times but it was only now that she
was able to make sense of it. This time Sara began to understand, and for the
first time realized that she had to do what Seth wanted. She needed her change
to be reversed. She needed to become human again – if it was not too late.

Sara paced as the soldiers she had fed upon changed into
monsters like her, just as the young woman in Traiven, her first victim, had
done. Just as Fera, Jud’s cook in the mages’ tower had done after that. Now,
though, Sara recognized what it was that was happening.

Somehow she was connected to those she had fed upon. Those
who had survived. Those who had changed. Now they too were feeding, and through
that connection Sara was receiving some of the power they gained. Nearly every
minute that passed came a puny surge of power, sometimes singly, sometimes two
or more together.

How many men had she bitten? How many would they feed upon?
Would those people also change into what she was? So many questions raced
through her mind and yet she knew not the answers and dared not bother Seth
now. He was not only busy, but struggling with his own mistakes and lack of
understanding of the consequences that came with
his
power.

Feeling alone Sara sat upon the ground in the darkness
counting the small surges of power that washed through her every moment that
the night progressed.

Sara began to weep as morning neared, and a second wave of
power rushed into her, coming faster and faster with each passing moment. Even
those that her victims fed upon had changed and were now feeding her with their
power. Not even the constant influx of pleasure was enough to overcome the
grief Sara felt. Crying softly into the darkness she wondered if Seth too felt
this way when his troops died. If so he was obviously the stronger of the two,
for though she had seen him wince as they fell in battle, never had a tear
escaped him. Then, just like her tears, snow began to fall.

*****

Thousand Hole Tommy was really enjoying his new body. In
fact, he felt like a new man. Just hours ago he had been worn and weary from an
existence stretched too thin over the expanse of time. Not now though. Seth had
given him new vigor and strength. Sure he was ugly as all sin, but with the
scars already upon his old body it really wasn’t a change for the worse.

Using his powerful legs, Tommy leaped fifty yards at a time.
He could see much better in darkness with his new body than he had ever been
able to with his old one. It truly was a miracle.

Covering huge expanses of earth with each leap, it was only
a quarter of an hour before Tommy reached the edge of Sigrant’s encamped army.
They had a watch set, not that it mattered. One moment Tommy was forty yards
out, completely shrouded by darkness, the next he was inside the camp.

Stopping momentarily he untied the bundle he had brought
with him and donned the mage robe it contained. It was a blue robe, unlike any
worn in Valdadore, and Tommy assumed it had been scavenged from the battlefield
earlier in the day. It had blood upon it and reeked of sweat and smoke, but other
than that it sufficed in hiding his features from anyone he might run into.
Pulling the cowl low, Tommy began searching the enemy camp for the quarters of
the king himself.

Hour after slow trudging hour, Tommy roamed the camp looking
and listening for clues as to the enemy king’s whereabouts. On numerous
occasions he heard a loud gasp or a short yell or scream. He imagined with a
force this big, discipline must be an issue and fights were bound to be a
problem.

About two hours before dawn, Tommy rounded a corner and
found a soldier with a neck wound upon the ground. Though the soldier was still
alive, a body in such a state as this could be cause to sound an alarm. He
quickly dragged it back around the corner and stashed it beneath a cart
containing supplies. Tommy smiled; Valdadore’s enemies were trying to kill each
other, and hopefully they would succeed. Done with doing someone else’s dirty
work, he rounded the corner once again as snow began to fall from the sky.
Ahead he saw a large tent with four huge men and two smaller ones standing
guard outside. It was crimson, accented in gold. Tommy would bet anything but
his new body that inside that tent was the king. He changed direction, planning
to circle the tent from behind. Two seconds was all he would need. Just two
seconds alone with King Sigrant and the war would be over.

Pulling his cowl low again he began to walk out into the
open, trying to look like he belonged.

*****

Darting from shadow to shadow, another assassin from
Valdadore moved among the enemy camp. Sharp were his teeth and claws, and thick
was his hide. Moving along on all fours, to anyone else Chad would appear
nothing more than an animal. Though it had taken him much longer to make it
this far into camp, he was surprised to see that both he and Seth’s other
assassin had arrived at the tent belonging to King Sigrant at the same time. He
could not see beneath the man’s cloak, but he could certainly smell it. He had
followed that scent across the entire expanse between the two armies. Unfortunately
for the assassin in that particular cloak, his decision to walk out in the open
had caught the attention of the guards who now spoke amongst themselves.

Just a few words were passed before the guards rushed to
meet the man in the blue robe. Chad saw his opportunity. Leaving the security
of the shadows he sprinted on all four limbs straight through the front flaps
of the tent. Though the outside had been well lit by torches, the inside was
pitch dark. Hearing no sounds Chad waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to
the darkness as his nostrils were assailed by the scents of blood and perfume.
Something across the tent moved in the darkness.

Chad’s eyes had not yet focused but he thought that someone
stood. Without the ability to bring weapons with him, he looked to his
surroundings for a weapon of opportunity and, spotting one, he took a step to
the side. Reaching down, with a wiggle and a tug he extracted a wooden stake
from the ground that had been hammered into the soil to pin down the edge of
the tent. Uncertain if his foe had even seen him, Chad leapt through the air
brandishing the foot long piece of sharpened wood.

*****

Tommy crossed the path between the two rows of tents, not
daring to look in the direction of the guards whose eyes he could feel upon
him. Even from this distance he could hear them exchange hushed words but he
kept walking. Then the guards gave chase, all six of them leaving their post,
each of them sprinting full ahead to intercept him. Fools. He needed not go
through them, he could just as easily go over them. Smiling, Tommy tore away
his disguise as the guards neared. Crouching low to the ground, as the first
was almost upon him, he drew his twin short swords and leapt with all his
might. In a fraction of a second he plummeted down towards the roof of the tent
belonging to King Sigrant, his swords held out to shear through the fabric as
he descended.