And yet another chapter arrives. The plot is unfolding much slower than in Blood, but I don't think that's a bad thing. I'm having more fun writing this, as I've been able to expand my scope much more and can include some more interesting characters and events. Hope you enjoy.
Picture from Medieval_Vampire121 from deviantart. Great artist.

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Chapter 3: Departure

Robert Donaldson walked up the hill towards Gwenhwyfar's hall, holding the reins of her beastly horse in one hand. Even Katelyn who had a suspiciously close relationship with the vampire seemed afraid of the creature and walked with Robert between her and the horse. The beast snorted, tugging on the reins slightly as it saw the hall up ahead, and its red eyes seemed to glow with anticipation. The horse had been stabled in the village even before Robert himself was born, and was fed the raw flesh of slaughtered sheep twice a day, rather than the hay kept for the other horses. It was completely unnatural. Rumours said it was centuries old, and every time he saw the thing, Robert could not bring himself to even doubt those words.

A shudder ran up Robert's spine as the black furred monster pulled, even as he struggled to hold it firm. On the horizon, the sky glared in brilliant reds and purples as the sun hid from the oncoming night. Stars were already starting to twinkle in the sky, and Robert had to force his fear down. He never liked the night, always did his business by day; night was for criminals and demons. He was neither.

His father was the village elder, and David would have come up the hill himself if it weren't the fever that had been plaguing him the past week. Whispers were already spreading through the village that within the month, Robert would take his father's place in formality, as he already had in practicality.

The horse snorted again, and looking over, Robert could see a smile spreading across Katelyn's features. They were close to the hall now, and Gwenhwyfar awaited them, dressed in black breeches, and a light brown tunic, in the open doors with arms crossed over her chest, sword sheathed at her hip. Saddle bags, already full lay on the ground by her feet. Robert swallowed, he had never liked dealing with the vampire.

"Adara," Gwenhwyfar called out cheerfully.

The horse pushed ahead, the reins slipping from Robert's hands, though he was happy to be free of the creature. He watched as nearly white hands ran over black fur, and quiet whispers passed from rider to horse. Katelyn ran ahead, almost jumping on Gwenhwyfar, but hanging away because of Adara.

"What if the Vikings attack again?" Robert demanded of the woman who had defended these shores for as long as anyone in the village could remember.

"You will be on your own whilst I'm gone. Set out watches on the coast, request soldiers from Kirkwall," Gwenhwyfar told him, as she lifted a saddle and threw it over the horse's back, earning another nostril born snort.

Robert ran a hand through his thinning gray hair and looked down the hill towards his home. A few torches were lit, beckoning back to his home, where his children slept soundly, and his wife awaited his return. As he looked back towards the vampire, she had finished securing the saddle in place and was tying down the saddlebags, strapping a Welsh longbow and a quiver of arrows to the soft leather. She tugged on them, and nodded when she was satisfied, before turning her gaze back to Robert.

"I expect nothing to happen to Katelyn in my absence. It would be regrettable for you all if her choices should bring unwanted attention her way," Gwenhwyfar informed him.

"I cannot be accountable for the actions of others," he said, knowing full well the mistrust the others held of the woman. Besides the scars left by a monster adorning her neck, there were also the rumours of the unholy affair the two had.

"Oh but you are Robert Donaldson. This is your village, and the lives of everyone within are your responsibility. Even should you deem Katelyn's life not worth while to defend, think of my vengeance when I return. I will ensure blood flows in rivers, while you watch," Gwenhwyfar snarled, stepping forward so her lover could not see her lips pull back, showing off her fangs.

Robert blanched, and dumbly nodded as an answer.

"Then your business here in concluded. Go home to your family," Gwenhwyfar said, and the elder's son did as he was told at a run. Gwenhwyfar and Katelyn watched him go, before turning to each other, whilst Adara let out a whinny of impatience.

"Take me with you. Please," Katelyn pleaded, wrapping her arms around the undead woman, comforted as the embrace was returned.

"I would not put you through that danger. Even if you do not think it now, my road is much more dangerous than awaiting here," Gwenhwyfar said, and bent her head to kiss Katelyn's lips.

Cool fingers ran through chestnut brown hair, and warm hands moved down the muscles of Gwenhwyfar's back. Lips touching, eyes closed, both women enjoyed the intimacy of the moment. Gwenhwyfar broke the moment, and stepped out of Katelyn's arms before moving to Adara, setting one foot in a stirrup.

"I love you," Katelyn said as the vampire hoisted herself into the saddle.

Gwenhwyfar sighed, and cast the woman a sad look. The look alone brought tears to Katelyn's eyes, and her lips trembled as she braced for the words she knew were coming.

"It was lust Katelyn, nothing more," Gwenhwyfar said, before pressing her feet into Adara's flanks. Mount and rider took off at a gallop to the south.

Katelyn was left behind, watching the woman disappearing into the distance as tears began to run down her cheeks.

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"Let him go heathen," the half drunken soldier demanded, a sword pointed towards Elishka and the choking man she had hostage. The tip wavered as he struggled to retain focus.

"I've told you fool. I am Christian," Elishka said calmly, despite the rope she held that dug into the man's neck, cutting off his breathing. His fingers desperately attempted to free himself. She was very much regretting her decision to remove her mask in this inn. All she had wanted was some wine for the road.

"But ye got the look of a Muslim about you," the first soldier said, taking a step forward.

"John has got himself beaten by a woman," a third guard said with a loud laugh, sword tip digging into the boards of the inn. He thrust his hips forward suggestively, and Elishka rolled her eyes.

"Very well then," Elishka said, and let go of the rope.

The man took a deep gasp of air, but hands quickly grasped the top of his head and his chin. With widening eyes he knew there was nothing he could do to stop his own doom. Elishka snapped his neck, and let the body flop to the floor. The other two soldiers looked down, dumbfounded, unable to completely grasp what just happened as their vision swam.

Elishka pulled out the dagger beneath her cloak in the small of her back, and stepped onto a table and leapt from the wooden platform. The third soldier looked up in time to be tackled to the ground, steel piercing the flesh of his throat. He tried to scream, but could only let out a choked gurgle as blood ran from his mouth and pumped out of the wound in his neck.

Elishka quickly licked her lips, before she snapped her head forward and sank her fangs deep into the wound. Blood washed over her tongue and splashed down her throat and she revelled in the flavour as she felt the guard bleed out beneath her.

"Bitch," the first guard yelled, and Elishka felt a sword plunge through her stomach.

She gasped in intense pain, before a foot to the back send her collapsing to the ground, blade pulling free from her flesh. Quickly rolling to her feet, dark blood staining her clothes, skin and muscle began to quickly knit itself back together before the drunken soldier's astonished eyes.

"Demon! Get back!" he yelled, starting to back away from the creature before him, his comrade's blood running over her lips and down her chin. The other patrons who had only been watching, now screamed in fear. Some ran for the door, fleeing into the night.

Elishka shook her head sadly, and picked up the dead soldiers sword.

"You had your chance to walk away and live. You've sealed your fate," she said, almost without emotion.

The soldier stumbled over a chair, falling to the ground. Elishka pounced, jumping into the air, and pointing the tip of the sword towards the man's chest. Blade punched through chainmail armour and cleaved the man's heart and lung. Elishka pulled the sword free with a spurt of crimson. Blood bubbled from under his armour as the man struggled to breath in his last precious seconds of life.

Elishka watched as the soul left his eyes, before scanning the inn. The only one who remained was the inn keeper, who leaned against the far wall, face pale, eyes wide.

"I do apologize for the mess. I had only intended to drink some wine, but after all this violence I'm in need of something with more... substance," she said, pulling back her lips to reveal blood stained fangs.

The innkeeper screamed as he turned to run, but Elishka hopped over the counter and grasped him before he could make it to the back door. Swinging the heavy set man around, the vampire courier smashed the man's fat face against the counter top. He was almost sobbing now as he spat out blood and broken teeth. Elishka held him against the counter and ran her tongue over his neck.

"Do not be troubled. This will hurt," she said, before tearing viciously into his flesh and drinking deep.

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Stepping out of the roadside tavern, Elishka looked either way down the road. In the distance she could see the lights of Dublin gleaming in the night, where her next contact waited. Bringing her dagger to her mouth, she licked the English soldier's blood from the steel.

"I really hate English," she said to the night, before going to the small stable beside the inn to retrieve her horse.

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