Excited to see the Ironite blade once more the smith, whose name was Hector, examined the dead elven lord's sword like a man would examine a pair of tits. Particles of stars, hints of mithril combined with the finest irons of the earth, all foraged to be hard as dragon scale while light enough for a novice swordsman to carry.
"Had I the coin I'd take it off your hand," Hector said, readying a cold furnace. "Though I could do better, let's say, an offer to share the blade."
"What'd you have in mind?" He asked.
"I'll split it in two, keep one half, and use the other to smelt into your armor, shield, and that thing," Hector explained, pointing at his flail. "I could give you a simple buff and repair what's lost, but this would give you some real teeth against the vampyrium I am certain you'll face out there."
He thought on it for a minute.
"Fine, it's yours," he said, handing him the greatsword. "Make my flail sharp, and shield broad."
Hector was giddy like a child during the holiday season, and wasted no time getting to work.
Three days later he returned to the hut, which was firm with well cut lumber and a stone wall with a chimney. Hector presented to him everything he had before; black iron armor hard enough to resist all but the strongest of attacks, his helm with sharper horns, the shield broader and taller than he was, and finally his flail, with razor spikes all round the head, lighter yet hard enough to crack dragon scales upon impact.
"You'll be a storm of steel and iron," Hector said, strapping his armor to him. "A real warlord. None of the vampyres will stand a chance."
"You don't seem so queasy about speaking on 'em," he said.
Hector laughed, "Had I known Brand was but a head squeeze away from bringing this village back to life, I'd have done it myself."
With a good helm on at last, he was once again what he was destined to be.
Memories or not, he enjoyed the hunt, the challenge, and, though some would whine about it, the slaughter.
With the Embers three, Al and Arthur agreeing to join him, he and Nathan set out from the village. The lad priest, William, joined them, leaving a protection prayer to secure the villages borders.
Light ventured into darkness, a place all too familiar.
Clouds blotted out the moon.
It was dark, and, unlike much of the cursed lands he knew before, he didn't know his way.
William was at the front, a small glow beneath the collar of a cross atop a star.
He learned after a few days journey from the village the lad was student of Father Willbress, though he'd yet to mention anything of his encounter with the old priest.
"Willbress was like a father to him," Nathan told him as the party rested in total darkness. "Best not to tell him now, lest his faith waivers."
William approached them, a firm, yet calm look.
"I don't waiver so easily," the young priest insisted, hand on the cross star. "I felt a disturbance in the order, and knew it to be one only a man of Father Willbress' demise could bring."
"Impressive," he said, looking into the lad's dark thin eyes. "Lords of the Life gave you a heap of their power."
"The Lords of Life don't give me anything," William said, looking up, "they help me. I like many just ask for a hand when I need it most, and they provide."
"You just so happen to get more than a hand," he said.
"Yes, an anointed priest does have some benefits," William said, hands on the hip with a raised eyebrow. "Don't be so intrusive, my lord. Ye' who are soulless need my presence so you can wake up from death's doorstep."
"He means no offense, good father," Nathan said, ruffling William's head, who groaned.
The young father made his way to the Embers, feeling safer amongst those he'd traveled with for so long.
On the move again, Allison led the way, familiar with the territory lurking with scouts, among other creatures.
They spread out, no more than a few paces apart, all on line, moving forward. He was centermost, Al on his right, Nathan on his left, Dany and Arthur on the former and latter's side respectively. William stayed behind Al, covering the cross star, which was still glowing.
"Every step closer to Eldreth, the Lords' power fights harder," Al said, keeping her voice down. "They kn-."
Winds hissed, shadows looming from branches like dark flames.
Al loosed an arrow, landing on the shadows. The vampyre cursed, spitting from the shadows, its eyes blood red with light like the star. Al loosed again, though it fled, soaring above the branches as a tight black wave.
"Dammit!" Al snapped. "More will come!"
"Good," he said, twirling his flail.
"We've never gone this far before. We only do what's necessary to defend the village."
"Good."
She looked at him, forcing a disappointed look, though he knew she understood.
It was his world now, and he was to be a conqueror of champions, not one to just make safe a village.
Darkness thickened, shadows moving on all sides.
William pulled out the cross-star, and pale faces whined above or farther ahead within he woods.
Lighter than ever, he whipped his flail. Trees severed, trunks sliced off completely. Great oaks and willows tumbled down, landing with a thunderous echo. Vampyres soared across the ground, dodging, fallen trees, all cloaked in midnight robes.
Arrows loosed took one in the face, the others slipped into darkness, then it was silent.
He whipped the twitching vampyre, crushing it with a few slams.
Shadows rose again, dozens of paces ahead, and winds sucked inwards.
"Get down!" William shouted.
While everyone ducked behind a tree, close enough to feel William's presence, he stood firm.
Shield up, a black sphere spun amongst the vampyres. They chanted, that old foul language, and bright sparks of lightning scorched trees nearby. Like the firebombs within that hot hut, the ball of darkness, splintering trees in its way.
Silver light ignited on his shield.
Air tightened, his muscles bulged. Shadows collided against him, though he didn't flinch. As if the sun were rising, his illuminated all the woods.
The dark sphere erupted, breaking into white sparks.
Vampyres commanded the shadows again. Black bombs span up, then spewed his way. With an ignited flail, bright as his shield, he swatted them away. A thick wave rocked the woods, winds surging outward.
Allison loosed. Silver sparked arrows plunged into vampyre chests, and the blood starved demons whined. They turned to dust, sprinkling apart in a light-drey fire.
One slipped into the darkness, though he could see it. It surged like a dark current, trailing towards him. He rained his flail down, bursting silver fire from the ground. Out of the shadows, the vampyre cried, then he finished it with a fiery spiked lash.
Winds rocked trees, yet nothing growled nor snarled.
For another mile or so, it grew dark, so dark what little moonlight there was disappeared. Nathan kept a trembling hand on his cross, and the others chest pounded every step further.
He led the way for a little while but couldn't see a thing. It was all black, and he believed he were getting heavier. He cursed, wondering why nothing on him would brighten, then William touched his arm.
"Keep going. Do not be afraid," the young father commanded.
A sharper presence than Father Willbress, William was also a bit more welcoming.
Whereas the old father spoke of sternness, William sounded to be a friend, someone he'd known for years. As he kept moving he shield gave off faint light, and William's hand gave him sight he didn't use with his eyes. A greater sense of things, the dirt beneath his feet, air in his lungs, and echoes of the wind, it was clear a sight as ever.
Hot air whiffed through the party, a beast grumbling.
"It's harmless," William said, tugging his arm, "Just keep moving, we're almost there."
"You been here before?" He asked.
"I've had a foresight. Blessed be the lords of light and love."
He knew nothing about the gods, save for one who couldn't let him die properly, but he'd thank them if he got a shred of light.
Stars appeared above, a dark-purple sky, red, yellow, and violet.
The moon was red, crows cawed. Torches flickered green and blue several hundred paces away, upon a metal signpost within a fork in a white paved road.
"Eldreth," William said, removing his hand. "Marryvia's capital.
Upon a hill, at least a mile up the road, were towers raised beyond the clouds.
A palace, stretching far as the eye could see.