As orange light filtered through the trees and fog along the Dray River, Adarin eased the guards down from high alert. Faces showed frustration, fear, and fatigue. He walked along the ritual circle, past the loading hatches and mast, toward Magnolia’s Command Castle. The Order forces had left Oakridge in a panic as the bats had attacked only them and left the locals alone. The festival had ended in bloody scratches and humiliation for them. Nonetheless, a garrison had been left behind and had been built around the strongest abjuration mage, who had held the bats in check as the garrison took over the city hall.

  Adarin was grinding his teeth in the privacy of his virtual combat space as he climbed up the stairs towards the Command Castle. What a stain on our reputation—driven off by flying rats.

  “Commodore.” He nodded his body.

  The Commodore growled back, his composure cracking for the first time in a moment. Adarin tensed. We should give them all rest. Not just the men. Especially my officers.

  Adarin looked around the river. It was becoming tighter now, a mere twenty meters, with richly forested sides where trees had collapsed or were collapsing into the water.

  “Order the command staff to assemble,” Adarin said, his tone carefully controlled.

  The Commodore nodded and his adjutants started playing with the communication artifact. It took nearly half an hour for everyone to assemble, as the Duchess and Francesco had to be shipped over from other ships they had ended up on during the evacuation. Absently, Adarin noted red spots on Francesco’s neck as everyone but Gavin was assembled.

  Adarin shook his head and brought his manipulator down onto the deck with a thud that earned him a disapproving stare—not a glare yet—from the exhausted Commodore.

  “We are starting. I don’t care where the little green gremlin is.”

  Francesco smiled slightly and spoke up. “It was quite the eventful end to a too-eventful day.”

  Adarin nodded. “Indeed. And I know…” He hesitated. “Who is behind it. Tell me—who knows what the Nosferati are?”

  The reactions were immediate. The Duchess’s hands shot up to her mouth as she gasped, her eyes widening. Francesco chuckled and shook his head. The Commodore’s face hardened while Devon and Liora merely looked confused.

  Francesco clicked his tongue. “An old fairy tale to scare children. Maybe they are based on monsters that once existed, but they aren’t real.”

  Duchess Viola looked at him. “If the legends describe them accurately, then they would have the power to make you forget that they are real, Consul Martinez.”

  Francesco sneered and shook his head. “I am certain that you, in your circumstances, did not have access to the newest scholarly materials on matters of bestiology.”

  But the Commodore’s voice cut sharply through it. “Oh, they are all too real. When I was a junior ensign, we found a ship of coffins, its crew dying with bite marks draining them of blood.” The man chewed his mouth as if unwilling to speak the next words. “The ship was infested with bats.” He spat out and looked at Adarin. “These bats, the ones that have been hounding us ever since we turned up the Dray—they are their servants, right?”

  Francesco rolled his eyes. “Preposterous superstitions and sailor’s yarn. Is that what we are basing our decisions on now? We should—”

  But Liora interrupted him with a sharp sneer of her own. “Maybe listen to the man who is in command of the expedition, instead of waxing poetically about what can and cannot exist in the hinterland that is so uncivilized and unknown that it has no access to the newest advances in bestiology, Consul Martinez.” She spat the last two words, and Francesco blinked three times, looking over at her, confusion clear on his face.

  Adarin raised the manipulator, stalling that particular discussion before it could get going. “My tactical field report is: the creature is a humanoid. When I met it, it wore black translucent silk, with unnaturally pale skin. When it drinks blood, its arteries and veins shine through clearly. It has red eyes.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Liora gasped. “The red eyes. My… my dreams. Do you mean to say—”

  Adarin turned to her. “Yes.”

  She shivered and sucked in a deep breath of air.

  Adarin continued after she said nothing for a few seconds. “They have shapeshifting abilities. They turned into a swarm of bats. They can fly. They brought down and injured the elder wyvern, grounding it, which allowed me to kill it.”

  He looked at Liora, how shaken up she was, and swallowed the final part of his encounter. Better that she doesn’t remember. Adarin shuddered, recalling the beast's tongue running over her body. He made a gesture over the council, over the fleet, over the forest that was waking up within thick waves of fog.

  “It told me that it will provide… challenges, gifts, and surprises.”

  Duchess Viola was the first one to speak up. “So we are facing a capriciously cruel monster. Do you know what level it is?”

  Adarin swallowed hard. “I am not well versed in those affairs of this world. However, I am not sure on whom I would bet my money if Rüdiger and the Nosferati I encountered were to come to blows.” He paused, half for effect, half to steady himself. “It told me that it is merely bringing greetings from a master who is interested in me personally.”

  He was glad that only his digital avatar involuntarily looked at Liora—and most likely Yara as well.

  For a few somber minutes, every expedition member contemplated the situation. Then Liora cleared her throat. “So what do you propose? What can we do? Should we turn around, given that we know we are likely running into a trap?”

  Adarin and Francesco spoke up at the same moment. “No, we—” They studied each other. Adarin gestured at Francesco.

  “No, we cannot. Establishing the tool supply chain is vital for our endeavor to succeed. Not getting the Dray River under control would also likely endanger all the gains, all the claims to land we have laid along the Dray to villages and towns, because there would not be the economic backbone of securing the military presence in the region by anchoring it on a fortress.”

  Adarin nodded appreciatively and moved his torso. “Consul Martinez speaks the truth. In fact, I’d rather prefer knowing that there is an enemy awaiting us than marching blindly into a trap.”

  But Duchess Viola spoke up. “If the creature is so powerful that we have no one to match it, how are we going to kill it?”

  Adarin shook his head. “I do not think it intends to slaughter all of us. To be honest, I think if it wanted to kill us all, we would already be dead corpses floating alongside the wreckage down the river.”

  Silence settled on them with that somber image. Adarin cleared his throat and continued.

  “I do not believe in making plans yet. However, a few simple rules: no man goes anywhere alone. Every soldier will work in groups of three from now on.” He looked sternly around the council. “That goes for all of us as well. Full guard duties, all the time, every time. And we will prioritize cutting a large swathe of forest once we arrive, so we have a clear overview of what’s going on around us.”

  He turned to Francesco. “Francesco, I know that wards are more powerful than individual mages. How long till you could potentially ward our new site?”

  Francesco whistled and shook his head. “Hard to say. It depends on what foundation we have for the ward to be established on. We have the manpower. But if we have to build a foundation, it would preferably be stone fused into a single platform with conjuration magic.”

  Adarin swallowed hard. “And how long would you need for the wards given such a setup?”

  “Three days.”

  Adarin nodded. “Then we’ll just have to hold out four or five days.” The thought hit him. “Our… freshly recruited enchanters work with wood. Would a wooden platform suffice as well?”

  Francesco’s eyes lit up. “I think so. Enchanted wood would actually be superior to mundane stone.”

  “Good. Francesco, you will work with the enchanters to prepare a swift setup for a platform. I want that thing within less than four days.”

  Francesco nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  Conversations about security measures continued, but after nearly an hour of meeting with his fellow officers, Adarin noticed that replies had turned into short bites and the number of barbs increased. He made a cutting gesture, interrupting. The Duchess was gesticulating angrily at the Commodore.

  “Enough. Half of us will rest now, the other half later. Not only the men need to recover—we too. Especially us. A tired officer is a stupid officer.”

  The Commodore looked ready to protest, but Adarin pointed a manipulator at him. “You will be in the first round of resting officers, Commodore. Your adjutants will run the fleet. I need your sharp talent for commanding the ships, especially as the river is getting shallower and tighter.”

  The Commodore exhaled loudly and shook his head, a tired smile playing over his weathered face. “Very well, Commander. You are right.”

  As the group dispersed, Adarin looked over the fleet—the ten merchantmen and five warships. Dark thoughts from last night clung to him. What I wouldn’t give for three days of quiet reflection.

  He shook himself when suddenly, from the aft castle, an outraged female cry and a loud slap and yelp erupted.

  “You brought that whore!”

  Liora hissed loudly, and Adarin heard Francesco starting to protest just as Liora, with the hiss of an angry cat, jumped at him.