Prologue

  Malachar

  The fog curled up around him, clinging to his armor. It didn’t matter. Nothing in the natural world could block his vision.

  This backwater squalor of a village wasn’t truly worth his time. But his men were new. Untested. It would build their confidence, and, more importantly, get them acquainted with death. Give those he would keep a thirst for it. And the others, the ones that paused, or lost the contents of their stomachs at the sights and smells… well. Those would be even better fodder for the others.

  He settled the flat of his broadsword onto his shoulder and started toward the village. A gurgle to his left caught his attention through the screams of the villagers.

  One of his men, bleeding, on the ground. He cocked his head, considering, before the warm outline of a small body caught his attention.

  “Come out.” His voice rasped through his helmet.

  Surprisingly, the girl obeyed, back ramrod stiff as she approached.

  “Call off your men! We don’t have anything of value here!” she yelled.

  He laughed, catching himself off guard. He hadn’t laughed in some time. This girl was amusing, ordering him around like he was some farm boy.

  “I have no doubt that’s true,” he answered, dropping to one knee to get closer to her.

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  Her body trembled in fear, but her face didn’t betray a flicker of it. She stepped in closer, and then jumped at him. He caught her by her wrist, mid-air, a dagger in her hand aimed at the eye-slit in his jagged helmet. He laughed again.

  “If only you were a bit older, warrior. I could use someone like you.”

  “Call off your men. Please.”

  She didn’t beg for her life. Didn’t ask to be freed. Eyes full of tears, she looked over her shoulder at the fires his men were starting in the thatched roofs of the village. That she could be of use to him was no lie. And there were ways that he could make that happen.

  “What would you give to save your people?” Malachar asked her, intrigued.

  She stilled, looking up into his eyes even though there was no way she could see them in the dark. No natural eyes could on a night like tonight.

  “Anything.”

  The smile that spread across his face felt unnatural. It wasn’t the smirk that occasionally took over. No, it was true amusement. Truly, this girl was a thing of beauty.

  “As you wish.” He slammed his sword into the ground, and reached a finger up to touch her jawline, just under her left ear. He felt a small jolt of power leave him, and she cried out. He tossed her toward her village, and she tumbled through the grass. Her body stiffened, and thrashed. He could see her gritting her teeth, but she didn’t call out. Finally, she stilled. “Now show me that you speak the truth, little Draugr.”

  When she climbed to her feet, she looked directly at him, in a way that proved she could now see better in the dark. She snarled at him and lifted her daggers.

  A scream from the village took her attention back that direction. She turned and darted away, unnaturally fast.

  “Until we meet again.” Malachar waited for moment. There. More screams. These were male though, turning from shouts of laughter to cries of death. He wouldn’t waste too many men here. Just enough to give her a taste. A taste of what she could be, if she wished.

  He didn’t have long to give away power. The master had only given this to him until the sun rose, and most wouldn’t be strong enough to survive the transformation. He whistled, and his men yelled to each other, relaying the message. The village would be spared tonight. But he would be back.