“Milord?” A voice from outside his tent. It was Rudiger. “May I enter?”
It took Alexander a moment to remember how to make his body speak. “Yes.”
He turned as the German knight entered. Rudiger’s eyes widened when he saw the ruin of broken wood where Alexander’s desk had been, but he wisely didn’t remark upon it. “The camp is secure and sentries have been posted. A full complement of ghoul and mortal knights shall stand guard during the daylight hours.”
“And just how full is that complement after tonight’s grand campaign?”
“Forty-three: twenty-three ghouls, twenty mortals.”
“If I am not mistaken, we began the battle with seventy-three ghoul and mortal knights.”
“We did, milord.”
Alexander noted the commander wasn’t omitting honorifics this time. “And we lost nearly half that many Cainites, did we not?”
“Seventeen, my prince.” Tiny beads of blood-sweat welled forth on Rudiger’s forehead.
“And how many pagans did we send to hell this fine night?”
“I… There was no way to make a clear estimate given all the confusion. But I’d wager that we slew two dozen at most.”
Alexander walked over to Rudiger until he stood toe to toe with the knight. To Rudiger’s credit, he didn’t back away. “Not precisely a glorious victory for the vaunted Teutonic Knights.”
Rudiger’s jaw muscles tensed. “I believe we first went wrong when—” Alexander’s hand shot out and clamped around his throat, choking off his words. The unliving knight was in no danger of fainting, but there were still many other ways Alexander could harm him if he wished. From the look in Rudiger’s eyes, the knight knew it.
“Not ‘we.’ You were in command of the knights on the field. You rode off of your own accord to join the vanguard, and it was you who ordered a retreat without consulting me. We still might have carried the night if it hadn’t been for your inept leadership and cowardice.”
The fear in Rudiger’s eyes changed to anger. He reached up and gripped Alexander’s wrist and tried to pry the prince’s hand from his throat, without success.
Alexander laughed. “You can’t possibly hope to match my power, childe, so don’t bother trying. I should grab one of the sharper pieces of my desk, shove it through your heart and then leave you out in the open to be consumed by the sun. Unfortunately, I have little time to deal with those of your brother-knights who would surely become foolhardy after such a public display. So, as much as I would like to, I will not slay you—”
Relief showed in Rudiger’s eyes.
“—that way. Instead, your knights will learn tomorrow evening that you incurred wounds during the battle—wounds you gallantly hid from them—and that you finally succumbed to your injuries in your slumber.”
Rudiger’s eyes were wide with terror. He tried to shake his head, but with Alexander gripping his throat so tightly, he had very little range of movement.
“I suppose you’re thinking that your men will not be taken in by my deception.”
Rudiger attempted a nod.
“Fear not, sir knight. I will make them believe. Now that they have fought one battle against a foe they thought they could defeat easily and suffered significant losses—including that of their beloved commander—they shall be eager to go up against the pagans again. I should have little trouble getting them to believe whatever I want, just so long as I promise them another chance to fight Qarakh’s tribe. And if that is the case, then I no longer have any need for you, do I?”
Before Rudiger could so much as blink, Alexander jerked his wrist. The knight’s neck snapped like a twig caught in a gale. Alexander then reached up with his other hand and in a single smooth motion tore Rudiger’s head from his shoulders. The knight’s body slipped to the ground, vitae gushing up from the neck stump.
Alexander gripped the head by the hair and brought it close to his face. He watched the light slowly fade from Rudiger’s eyes as the Final Death settled upon him. When his gaze was glassy and staring, Alexander dropped the head to the ground beside the body that was already fading into a pile of ash.
He had little time before sunrise. He needed to get digging. He selected a large chunk of wood from the remains of his desk to use as a digging tool and picked a suitable spot. He was surprised to find himself almost cheerful.
As he dug, Alexander hummed a tune that he’d first heard played upon a lyre as a youth in ancient Athens. He couldn’t recall the name of it now, if he’d ever known it, but it was a sprightly, bouncy tune that spoke of high spirits and good times. It was well worth Rudiger’s destruction, as well as those of all the other knights who had fallen in battle this night, to be reminded of that song after so very, very long. He continued humming to himself as he dug
Rudiger’s grave.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Qarakh rose from the ground inside his tent that night, he found Deverra waiting for him. The priestess lay upon the bed that had once been shared by his two human ghouls, Sasha and Pavla. Her robe lay folded next to the bed, and she slept beneath a fur blanket, her red hair spread out around her like the halo of a Christian angel. Her skin was less swollen than the previous night, the color almost normal again. Another night or two and she should be completely recovered.
He gazed down upon her sleeping face, torn between two equally strong urges. He wanted to leave the tent as quietly as he could before she woke. He knew that she had slept here because she had sensed something was wrong and wanted to talk to him
