A mountain lion crept along the carpet of leaves. The animal had wandered down into the valley, only a stone’s throw away from Aldebaran’s border.
Or rather, it used to be a mountain lion.
Its plaintive cries drifted through the air as though a newborn cub. Stellan had tracked it for a mile now. At first the beast had sounded feral and mighty as it wandered, casting about its glowering mien if even so much as an insect crossed its path. Stellan understood well its mood swings, for a strange transformation had overcome its body. The pitiful creature strained for an escape, one that would regretfully never come.
Slinking out into a clearing, the creature dragged hind legs that had become hairless and bloated, far out of proportion to the compact musculature of its torso. The mottled black skin jiggled like a full drinking sack. A constant twitch plagued its left ear. The feline trailed a brownish, gooey discharge, of which Stellan had already collected a sample.
Now was the time to act and put the animal out of its misery.
The lion had finally slowed down to where Stellan could try his experiment. Days earlier he had crafted a special dart, one filled with a potion he hoped would not only kill the diseased animal, but also disintegrate it entirely. The ingredients were not easy to come by, and their synthesis had been highly complex. However, if this worked, those long, hard hours would be more than acceptable. This alternative held far more appeal than a fire, which could lead to discovery. He eagerly awaited the results.
Stellan crept forward; the beast could not outrun him now. Yet caution would still be prudent, for the mutated animal could turn against him at any moment. He had one chance and one chance only to make this work. Slowly, he removed a glass vial from his side pouch. He poured its contents into a small dart. At the sound, the mountain lion’s head turned to him, a silent wail behind its eyes. Affixing the dart to a small mechanical launcher, Stellan slowly took aim.
“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Stellan whipped around. Four sinister horsemen stood before him. The mountain lion uttered a weak snarl and then slumped to the ground. Stellan hid the launcher in the folds of his cape. It was too late. His window had closed. Through gritted teeth, he spoke. “What do you want, Alucard?”
The lead rider was an older man with platinum-gray hair. Neatly combed, it fell to his shoulders. Haughty features like those of an eagle looked down upon Stellan with amusement.
“How devastating.” He raised a hand to his chest in mock grief. “I would have thought your words would be kinder for your estranged uncle. I’ve missed you, boy.” Alucard’s harsh tone belied his words. He signaled, and the other men grouped their horses around Stellan, blocking him from the beleaguered animal.
Alucard inched his own steed closer. Stellan felt like slicing daggers through his uncle’s patronizing expression. He envisioned the blood soaring out into a hundred rainbow-like arcs. No, make that two hundred. He deliberately locked his face into a stone-hard expression, a frequent habit because he often felt so angry. The unexpected visit from his kinsfolk only stoked his ire more. You will get nothing from me, he thought.
Alucard assumed a bored look. “What we want is what doesn’t belong to you.” He gestured lazily to his men.
Stellan watched as the other riders unfolded a sturdy wooden cage. They proceeded to load the mountain lion into it, being quite careful to avoid its abnormal parts.
Stellan tried to hide his confusion. Why were they collecting it? “That doesn’t belong to anybody,” he said, jutting his chin up in defiance. “It’s merely a sick wild animal.”
“Wrong!” Alucard lunged forward and hit Stellan across the cheek. His next statement sounded more like a hiss. “It belongs to the Black Mage. And he’s livid about your continued interference.”
The blow stung, but Stellan had endured worse. Breathe. Breathe, and don’t say a word. Though prudence might save his life, he couldn’t resist a retaliatory barb. “Aren’t you rather close to Leopold’s kingdom? I hear Aldebaran swordsmen enjoy smiting barbaric warlocks like you.”
Alucard glowered, but he refused to take the bait. “Our business takes us wherever His Highness desires.” His gaze took on a distant look. “Aldebaran and its guileless yet hateful citizens will soon acquaint themselves with the true meaning of fear.” His eyes closed as if in rapture. “The storm is gathering.”
The new development made Stellan suspicious. “Enough riddles. What do you mean?”
An ominous smile fell over Alucard’s face, one masking answers Stellan desperately wanted to uncover. Why have you been following me? Why now, after so many years of silence?
“We’re finished here,” said one of the men.
Alucard nodded slowly and regarded his nephew with a stern expression. “If we find you interfering like this again, it will mean your life. I don’t care who your father is. Oh, and here.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a small gray sack. It landed at Stellan’s feet and something metallic clinked inside. “Something for your trouble.” Alucard snickered. “I know times have been rough.”
Stellan remained still, sullen and resolute, avoiding their gazes.
In the background, he heard one of the men whisper, “Look at the fool! He’s waiting for us to leave so he can pick up the money.” Raucous laughter followed.
The men hooked the cage to one of the horses and signaled the animals to ride. A few jeers floated back in the air, followed by even more riotous laughter. Eventually, it faded. All around him, the wood creatures resumed their light chatter. They too seemed to take great delight in the impoverished man before them. Stellan rammed
