Ch. 445 - No Hesitation

Simon stayed there until morning, on guard the whole time, and constantly searching the sky for more dark magic, but nothing else tried to ambush him. When that was done, he borrowed the farmer’s horse just as he had in his previous attempt on this level, and rode straight toward Castle Gravenstone.

The only real difference was his urgency. Last time, he’d lost by seconds. So this time, he spurred his horse and kept it at a gallop until his destination was close enough that he slowed to avoid attention.

Simon spent that last leg of the ride up to the evil castle on the hill examining it. While the villages he’d passed through on the way here looked about like they had before, according to his dim memories, the castle itself looked to have seen better days.

That was even truer when he got close enough to see that the place seemed to have only a single watchman and an open postern door. It was practically undefended, and when the man on the wall called out for Simon to identify himself, all he had to do was yell, “I’ll be right up with a message for your master,” and the man shrugged it off.

Simon could have zapped him with lightning from there, but that was far too showy. Even though he didn’t see anyone else around, there probably was. So he waited until he’d tethered his horse and climbed the stairs. At the top, he’d been planning to push the man over the side, but once he got a good look at him, that determination wavered.

What he saw tugged at his heartstrings too much. While the young guard didn’t have a radiant aura, it was clear to Simon that he wasn’t a bad person. That wasn’t what stayed his hand, though. What did was the tiny blotches of darkness here and there around his body. Some had faded to gray, but it looked like a spiritual pox more than anything.

It took several seconds for Simon to figure out that the paired markings were the spiritual scars of vampire bites. The older ones were gray and blurry, but the new ones were ebon flecks that made the light of the soul around them gleam all the brighter. Simon was reminded then of when his own hand had been tainted by the darkness of hell, and he wasn’t sure he could send someone to meet their maker with so much unearned evil.

“Well, where’s the message?" the guard asked, interrupting his thoughts. Now that Simon looked past his aura, he could see the man was pale and thin, too. He was as threadbare as the rest of the castle.

“It’s more of a question, really,” Simon asked. “Why haven’t you killed the bloodsuckers in their sleep?”

The guard’s eyes widened at that, and his hand went for his sword, but Simon closed his right hand over the guard’s and held the man’s blade in his sheath. “This doesn’t have to end in violence,” he continued. “You’re free to leave. In fact, that’s exactly what you should do. You should flee far and fast before your neighbors find out that your master is no more and decide it's time for vengeance.”

“What? He’s… ‘Lord Souzirin is gone?” the guard asked, with a voice heavy with shock and incredulity. “When did this happen?”

“About an hour from now, I’d wager,” Simon said, looking deep into the other man’s eyes. “No more. By sunset, there will be no more bloodsuckers in these walls or in this valley.”

Relief warred with something else in his eyes for a moment. Simon had just enough time to figure out that it was the dark magic of compulsion before the other man opened his mouth to shout an alarm.

Before he could do that, Simon brought his head down hard against the other man’s forehead, stunning him long enough that he could choke him into submission. The two of them wrestled there atop the tower, hidden only by the crenelations as Simon berated himself.

Of course, there’s a reason they didn’t handle this themselves, he chastised himself. You should have known better. You knew how strong Freya’s grip was better than anyone.

Still, despite his error, he recovered and won against the underfed guard, then stripped him, bound him hand and foot with strips of the man’s own tattered pants, and donned his helmet, cloak, and breastplate, so as to fit in a bit better.

“I’ll handle this,” Simon said, patting the unconscious man on the head before hurrying off. “When you get free, you’ll finally be free, even.”

The next thing he did was rush to the tower where Freya had hidden. He had priorities, and the most important one was to kill whoever was in charge. Even if he was trying to save the humans worth saving, he still wasn’t about to risk getting bitten himself. Theoretically, the gaze of a vampire would kill him dead, but he didn’t want to test that.

Unfortunately, the tower was empty. That annoyed Simon, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. He checked the second tower on the far wall, too, before he went downstairs toward the crypt next.

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During Simon’s second attempt, he took the threat of brainwashed guards and servants a bit more seriously and strode forward like he belonged. Anyone who looked at him for more than a few seconds obviously didn’t recognize him, but the few who got close enough obviously decided it wasn’t their business and scampered away, making themselves scarce.

He bluffed his way into the basement like that. His confidence worked all the way until the last guard that was standing just inside what looked to be the crypt. Why he was standing inside with the door open instead of outside made sense as soon as Simon saw that the door could only be barred from the inside.

Don’t want to lock yourself inside with them, but can’t abandon your post in case you need to lock the door, huh? Simon thought as he approached. I can understand that.

It made him feel good about his approach. He would have been screwed if he’d raised the alarm and that guy had gotten the bright idea to bar the door. As it was, though, he didn’t react until Simon was almost to him.

“It’s too early for a relief, ain’t it?” the dark-haired man asked. “It can’t be lunch already.”

Simon didn’t answer. He just kept his head tilted forward enough that the helmet helped to hide his features. Then, when he was within arm's length, he struck, punching the guard in the throat. Normally, that blow would have dropped him, but his gorget absorbed much of the force. So, coughing, he stepped back and pulled out his dagger as he shouted for help.

“There’s an intruder in the crypt!” he bellowed, as he stabbed at Simon.

Simon, for his part, let him thrust blindly, ignoring his cries until they were in the doorway. Then, he seized the man’s arm and used it to pull him off balance and out into the hallway, where he promptly retreated from the fight.

He could have killed him. As dark gray as his aura was, he might even deserve death, but that could wait. Right now, he had some bloodsuckers to kill.

Simon slammed the door and put the bar in place before the guard could get to his feet. Then, as the guard pounded his fist against the door, Simon turned and drew his first stake from his belt.

“Someone get an axe!” the guard’s muffled yell came through the door. “We’ve got a maniac after our master!”

“Yeah, I’m the maniac,” Simon muttered to himself as he took in the scene. He was in a windowless stone room with a single exit, a lit lantern, and a whole lot of coffins. The walls contained a lot of the scribblings he’d seen on his way down there, but for now, he ignored them. Those could be studied after the undead had been made permanently dead.

The problem was actually quite a bit worse than it had been with Freya. There were more than a dozen coffins laid about the room. There was a large one on a dais in the back, and then a bunch scattered around it on the floor.

While part of him wanted to go to the last one immediately, he decided to open the closest one first. When he flipped it open, he found a woman who had been made forever young by the vampire’s bite. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a trace of youthful innocence in her. Her aura was as black as any he’d seen, and her pretty face did nothing to stop him from driving a stake through her heart.

A single pang of empathy rippled out from his heart when her eyes shot open from the blow, and her mouth opened in a silent scream, but that was only a natural reaction to a woman being murdered. Whoever this was, she hadn’t been human for a long time, and as soon as she started to come apart, any guilt about what he’d just done evaporated in the same way she did.

Her beauty curdled first, in the same way a witch’s might, but flesh around her mortal wound rotted next as her corrupted flesh failed. It was a horrifying sight, but Simon kept watching, and after a few minutes, all that was left was a blackened skeleton and a coffin full of foul ooze.

When he could learn no more, he shut the lid to minimize the smell of decomposition and moved on to the next coffin. The act might have been traumatizing for some to repeat over and over again, but for him, the grisly task was almost as cathartic as smashing statues on the basilisk level.

He was purging evil from the world and setting souls free. None of these people would thank him, but he was still setting them free.

One at a time, he executed vampires, and they were completely helpless to stop him. Some of them managed to hiss or squirm before he brought down the stake, but that was the most they could manage. One after another, they perished, and while most of those who died were women just like the farmer had hinted at, there were men in the mix too, leaving Simon to wonder.

Are they part of the Lord’s harem too, or does he just prefer to keep all of his spawn where he can see them to prevent intrigues? Simon wondered as he cut a bloody swath through the room. He’d never find out, of course. Even if they were capable of speech with the sun up, he wasn’t about to test his luck. The only good vampire was a dead vampire.

Unfortunately, the mortal servant of this place disagreed. As Simon killed the first few, there had been shouting and a rising sense of urgency. Now, someone was going to town with an axe, trying to cut their way through the door.

“Better make this fast,” Simon muttered as he approached the last coffin, “As soon as they cut a hole through that thing, they’re liable to shoot me with a crossbow.”

Still, he wasn’t afraid; even if he bled out as he finished, this would still be a life well lived. Truthfully, he should have done this last one first. The only thing that prevented that was that, according to legends, the other vampires might have become human once more. While Simon doubted that, it would have made for a terrible choice. He would have had a much harder time killing a dozen sleeping people who were just flesh and blood.

I would have, if they were worth saving, he reflected, but they’re too far gone. Letting them continue like this after all they’ve done would be too cruel.

Simon should know. He’d had to live that life. Spending a couple of lifetimes as a mole or an owl would probably be a good palate cleanser for these poor souls.