"Warchief Boarstaff," she called out as she approached, her voice carrying easily across the distance. "The Sand Serpent clan answers your call, as promised."
"Chieftain Khalida," Boarstaff replied with a respectful nod. "Heartwood Clan welcomes you and your warriors. Your timing is fortunate."
She dismounted with fluid grace, her movements economical and precise. Up close, intelligence sparkled in her eyes, the calculation behind her formal greeting. The Sand Serpent clan had fought vampires for generations, often serving as the first line of defense when the creatures ventured into the desert territories.
"We encountered signs of vampire scouts three days' ride from here," she said without preamble, keeping her voice low enough that only Boarstaff and the nearest council members could hear. "More organized than usual. Moving with purpose."
Boarstaff nodded grimly. "Cornelius de la Sang is gathering his forces. We expect an attack any day now."
A flash of interest crossed Khalida's features. "The vampire lord himself? Not just his children or subordinates?" When Boarstaff nodded confirmation, she continued, "That's unprecedented. What changed?"
Before Boarstaff could decide how much to reveal, Thornmaker spoke up. "He lost something valuable to us. Something he wants back."
Khalida's gaze sharpened. "What could be valuable enough to draw out Cornelius himself after centuries of sending others to do his bidding?"
"His son," Rockbreaker said bluntly. "Or what remains of him."
The desert chieftain went very still, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You have one of Cornelius's children? Here?"
"Not exactly," Boarstaff said carefully. "It's... complicated. We'll explain everything during the council meeting."
Khalida studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. "I look forward to hearing this explanation." She gestured to her clan, who began dismounting and leading their horses through the gate. "My people need rest and food after our journey. Then we can discuss how to kill vampires together."
As the desert clan entered the village, their presence created an immediate stir. The dwarves who had been setting up for the feast emerged to greet the new arrivals with characteristic boisterousness, already offering cups of ale to the travel-weary warriors.
Three distinct cultures mingled within the village walls, orc, dwarf, and desert folk, united by their common enemy. Already, curious desert warriors had approached the dwarves to examine their weapons, holding up curved sabers next to heavy dwarven blades. The contrast was striking: the desert weapons were elegant, single-edged, designed for swift mounted combat, while the dwarven swords were thick, double-edged implements meant to cleave through armor and bone alike.
"Beautiful metalwork," one desert warrior admitted, testing the weight of Ironhand's sword. "Though I can't imagine wielding something so heavy in battle."
"And I can't imagine trusting my life to something that looks like it might snap if you breathed on it wrong," Ironhand retorted good-naturedly, examining the saber's thin blade. "Different tools for different fights, I suppose."
Watching them interact, Boarstaff felt a cautious hope. Perhaps together they stood a chance against what was coming.
His gaze drifted toward the western perimeter, toward the oak tree where Sebastian had remained. Soon enough, Khalida would learn about Sebastian's presence, his transformation, his choice to stand with them against his creator.
That conversation promised to be interesting indeed.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sebastian watched the settlement from the shadows at its edge, observing the unusual gathering taking shape in the central clearing. Fires burned high, casting dancing light across faces from three distinct cultures, orc, dwarf, and the desert clan that had arrived at dusk. Their horses had been tethered in a makeshift corral, magnificent creatures that Sebastian had admired even when fighting against their riders years ago.
He had followed the patrol back to the settlement at his own pace, keeping to the trees, moving with the silent efficiency that centuries of hunting had perfected. Upon reaching the perimeter, he had paused, assessing the situation before making his presence known. Old habits, difficult to break.
The settlement was more alive than he had ever seen it. Children darted between adults with barely contained excitement; their usual bedtimes apparently suspended for this significant gathering. Warriors from all three races stood in small clusters, their body language a mixture of caution and curiosity as they assessed potential allies. Council members moved between groups, facilitating introductions, forging connections that might mean survival in the coming days.
Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching on the unfamiliar texture of the warrior braids Ochrehand had woven that morning. The bone beads clicked softly against each other, a sound that still startled him occasionally. He had considered removing them before approaching the gathering,they would certainly draw attention, but had decided against it. They had been given with meaning; he would wear them with the same.
In a concession to the formality of the occasion, he had returned to his cave long enough to retrieve the simple shirt he usually eschewed, though he remained barefoot. The thin fabric did little to hide the bruises at his hips, but he found he didn't particularly care who noticed. Let them wonder.
Sebastian observed Boarstaff working the gathering with practiced diplomacy, his broad shoulders straight with the responsibility he carried. The warchief paused frequently to speak with members of each culture, ensuring none felt neglected. His leadership was subtle but unmistakable, acknowledged even by those who had only just arrived.
Near the central fire stood the desert chieftain Sebastian had recognized earlier, Khalida of the Sand Serpent clan. He had encountered her before, during a border skirmish near the northern oasis years ago. Even then, he had marked her as exceptional, a warrior whose skill demanded respect, regardless of allegiance. The ash markings across her face were more elaborate than those of her clan members, denoting her rank and accomplishments. She carried herself with the quiet confidence of someone who had nothing to prove.
The moment to enter had arrived. Sebastian stepped from the shadows at the edge of the clearing, timing his approach to create maximum impact without seeming theatrical. The effect was immediate. Conversations nearest him faltered, then stopped entirely as awareness of his presence spread outward like ripples in still water.
He moved with deliberate grace through the gathering, neither hurrying nor hesitating as people instinctively made way. The warrior braids swung slightly with each step, catchingfirelight in their bone beads. He felt eyes tracking him from all sides, some curious, some hostile, some simply wary.
Khalida noticed him before he had crossed half the distance. Unlike the others, she showed no visible reaction beyond a sudden stillness, her attention fixing on him with predatory focus. When those around her registered her attention, they followed her gaze, and a hush gradually fell over the gathering.
