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The afterglow. That must be that feeling that makes my lips feel so loose. Caius still doesn’t seem to be convinced by his comrade’s words, however. I call up the vestiges of that feeling and let it rest on my features, a look of confusion and a little bit of awe, a desperation to please. He keeps looking at me for a moment longer and in thedarkness I can’t tell what he reads in my looks, but his grip on my hair finally eases and he stands up.
“You’re right,” he finally says. “He would have to have an iron will to break the afterglow, and I don’t see it in him. What a waste of time, capturing him. We should have just killed him and been done with it.”
“But then you wouldn’t have gotten to feed on such an untouched specimen. You’d have to feed on the communal blood slaves like everyone else.”
“Those blood bags,” snorts Caius. “Barely any living left in them anymore. It’ll be a pleasure to get fresh stock to replace them with.”
“Did you hear,” gossips Orpheus, “that those that distinguish themselves in this raid will get first choosing rights for their personal blood slave? After Grazrath replenishes his stock, of course. He’s quite . . . hard on his slaves. They say there’s barely anything left of them when he’s done.”
Caius grunts. “I hope to get my own blood slave soon. Now that I’ve finally had a taste of sentient blood, I’m tired of sharing with others. I want to get something pretty, with big tits, so that I can fuck them after I’m done with the feeding. The high of getting your cock squeezed while you’re full of that much vitality must be exquisite.”
Reluctantly, the vampires turn back to me, like I’m some chore for them to do. “What should we do with him, now?” asks Orpheus.
“Just leave him in the supply tent. We’ll move him to the slave pen tomorrow after the raid.”
Orpheus is the one who cocks his head this time. “Should we give him a blanket or something? Can’t humans freeze in temperatures like this? It’d be a waste to have him die during the night.”
There are some rustling sounds from one of the crates and then a rough-spun blanket is thrown at me. It only covers about half of me in a crooked manner. There’s no way I can fix it while bound and the two vampires don’t fix it either. Apparently done with me, thetwo turn and exit the tent, leaving me alone in the darkness once more.
“Will you report to the prince?” I hear Orpheus ask from the other side of the tent fabric. “I want to get in line for the slaves. Not all of us got to feed, you know.”
“Fine,” responds Caius, their voices getting further away. “But you owe me. The prince has been in a shit mood lately.”
After that I can’t hear anything else but the moan of the wind outside. It’s fucking freezing in the tent, the blanket doing little to no good. I guess I really do need to worry about surviving the night. Kicking out my legs, I try to burrow more fully under the blanket, but it’s a fool’s errand. The chain is just too short for me to do anything.
Alright, forget that plan. I should be trying to escape, anyway. With great difficulty, I get my legs under me and try pushing up with all my might to pull out the stake in the ground. The strain on my shoulder is blinding in its pain and I don’t feel any give while I pull. Either the stake is very long and stuck deep in the ground or I’ve been weakened by the vampire feeding on me.
Still, I can’t just give up. The townspeople at Grimblton need to be warned or a terrible fate will befall them. And I have to get back to Dura. That thought brings me up short. Dura, who is worried that I’ll abandon her. Does she think the worst? Or will she come after me, only to find an encampment of vampire soldiers? Either option is unacceptable. I pull with renewed vigor, ignoring the aches in my twisted arms and shoulders, and yank as if my very life were on the line.
I am just feeling like there is a little movement in the stake, a burst of hope going through my chest, when I hear an achingly familiar husky alto. “Keep quiet.”
Instantly, I stop my efforts and look around wildly. I see no one, but an invisible finger presses on my lips, as if to stop any noise I might make. Of course! Her amulet, that hides her and her scent. It would be the perfect way to walk into a camp of vampires. Still, Ihate her being this close to danger.
“Dura!” I whisper. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Then I suppose you want to be the prisoner of the Barakrini? Don’t be stupid,” she hisses back. I feel her going to my back, examining my bonds. She lightly gasps and I feel a tentative finger touch my wrist. I almost groan in pain, realizing for the first time that I’ve shredded the skin on my wrists with my struggles, the manacles chafing as I pulled against them.
“Oh, Marvik,” she whispers quietly. “What did you do?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper back. “I needed to escape at all costs. This is a raiding party, looking to invade Adrik. They’re going to kill the orc guards at Grimblton, then steal away its people to be blood slaves. We can’t let that happen.”
“I know,” she says. “I heard they are going to invade tomorrow, when the night is darkest.”
Of course, they would try to use the darkness to their advantage. It’s the smart thing to do. In the night, against a few orcs and untrained humans, they would have an easy victory. We have no time to lose if we are to save the people of Grimblton. A wave of determination goes through me and I start trying to pull again.
“Stop it,” Dura hisses. “You’ll only make your wrists worse.”
I feel her pull at the stake behind me, carefully avoiding pulling on my bleeding wrists. It gives a little more, then gets stuck on something, not moving any longer.
“I have nothing to pick the locks,” she whispers. “I’m going to check around the tent and see if I can find any tools.”
I feel her creep away from my back and hear some light shuffling noises. In a moment she’s back, victory in her quiet voice as she murmurs, “I found a crowbar. Hold absolutely still.”
Behind me, the crowbar slips into the links of the manacles. Dura pushes down and twists sharply, popping the link and freeing my right hand. The movement rubs against my raw, bloody wrists and I have to struggle to stay silent. Then she gets to work on the left, soon freeing my other hand from the stake. I sag forward, my armscoming around to the front. I rub my shoulders and elbows, trying to get more feeling into them. The cuffs of the manacles are still on my wrists, but that is a problem for later.
I stand, the blanket falling off of me and I turn. Dura’s still invisible and it’s so dark that I probably wouldn’t have been able to see her anyway, but I say in the general direction that I think she is standing, “Alright. We need to go. We have to get to Grimblton before they realize I’m gone.”
“That’s going to be a problem,” comes Dura’s voice, a little to the right from where I thought she was. “Vampires have a more acute sense of smell than even orcs. If you leave this tent, they’ll be able to smell a bleeding human wandering out of their camp easily.”
