So close, Reynald thought, so very close. He pushed himself harder but his progress was suddenly halted. His legs gave out from under him and he tumbled to the ground. He nearly roared with frustration but stopped, not knowing how close his pursuers were. He dug his gauntleted fingers into the loamy earth and began dragging himself bodily forward, inch by bloody inch. He must make it. He had to do his duty. He had to save the Knights Errant. They need...

* * * * * * * *

"We need you father! I need you! You cannot leave your lands so soon after returning from the Quest. " Reynard de Germaine, Knight of the Grail, listened silently as his son, now a Knight of the Realm, urged him to reconsider his course of action.

In the few weeks he'd been back from his long quest, he had not connected with the boy he had never known who was now a man. His wife was dead and now that he had supped from the Grail, Reynald felt little desire to return to ruling. Instead, he wished to find a Grail Chapel and live a life of quiet contemplation with only the spirit of the Lady as his companion. When he had told his son of his wishes, the young man had been shocked.

Now they were arguing, or more accurately, his son was arguing, as Reynard made his way out toward the open castle gate. He dearly wished for Halifax, but the noble steed had died, impaled upon a spear, during the final climactic with Varkrom Ironbound.

"I cannot love you for this," his son continued passionately, "I cannot love you for abandoning these lands again."

Reynard remained stoic and calm. "My son, there is no choice. There are reasons beyond your understanding for my decision."

"You were not even here when mother died," his son sounded defeated, realizing that the steely Reynard would not be swayed, "You were not here for me when I needed you."

Reynard paused momentarily. "I am sorry, son. I am sorry, but I will not return."

His son stopped just inside the gate and watched Reynard's back as he set off into the wilds.

"Duty unto death, father?" the young man shouted, the sadness in his voice evident.

Without turning back, Reynard murmured, "duty unto...

* * * * * * * *

"... Death isn't it? Or some saying like that? The Germaine family motto if I'm not mistaken. I see you're taking it quite literally." The cold, mocking voice echoed around the clearing where Reynard lay and dragged him back into reality. He grunted at the throbbing pain in his side and looked up to see the twinkling light of the torches that marked the edge of the wood. He rolled over onto his back as he heard the creak of armor.

A predatory figure detached itself from the shadows of the night. Chalky white skin, high cheekbones, and dark eyes dominated Reynard's view. The vampire wore coal-black armor in the Bretonnian fashion but went helmetless, showing off its supernaturally handsome face and letting its dark hair hang loose. The vampire grinned as he saw Reynard try and rise off the ground, revealing glinting white fangs.

"Oh yes, you have put up such a fight, knight of the House Germaine. Quite a merry little chase you led us on as well." The vampire's tone was jocular. "It has been most exhilarating. Unfortunately though," the creature frowned like a petulant child, "I have been told to bring it to an end."

Reynard grunted and pushed himself up on to his knees, though the effort nearly caused him to black out again. He would not survive this.

The vampire stepped closer and languidly drew a vicious serrated blade. "My name is Sir Gerard, lieutenant of the Blood Dragon Gallette. You will not survive this. However, since you have so amused my master and I by trying to foil our little surprise, I may be tempted to keep you on as a pet." The vampire knight smiled sardonically, once more revealing his fangs.

The threat of undeath was all that was needed to drive Reynard off his knees. Never would he become a foul creature of the night like the thing that stood before him. By the Lady and her holy might, he would fight and overcome any foe, even this one. Sir Gerrard chuckled as the old Grail Knight rose unsteadily to his feet.

"Still some fight in the quarry yet? Good, it would have been so droll to merely execute you."

"Silence," the words rumbled out of Reynard's mouth as he drew his blade and rose to his full height, "with the Lady as my strength, I will expunge you from this land, you vile beast, and foil the plans of your thrice-accursed master. I am Reynard de Germaine, Knight of the Grail. Come and taste your final death on my blade!"

Reynard spit out a wad of bloody phlegm at his enemy as the vampire's eyes narrowed to predatory slits. "Fine then old tin knight, as you wish. Let me show you the joys of undeath!"

The two combatants met in a whirl of blades. Reynard knew almost immediately that he was overmatched. Even in his best form, this would have been a challenge. A normal man, even a normal knight, would most likely have been dead in the opening blows of the clash. Their swords clashed and clattered in the cold night air. With each blow, Reynard could feel his wounds ache at the effort he was exerting.

Lady help me, he thought, I shall not falter. Reynard caught a swipe on the hilt of his blade and slammed his body into Sir Gerrard, hoping to throw the monster off-balance. It was an old trick, and one that his opponent must have expected.

The vampire knight absorbed the charge and grabbed Reynard's pauldron with his free hand, using the Grail Knight's momentum and its own unnatural strength to send him stumbling off-balance. Sir Gerrard lashed out and the serrated blade cut a bloody gouge across Reynard's unprotected back.

The vampire followed up with a stunning downward strike that rattled off Reynard's pauldron and nearly knocked him to the ground. Instead of falling, the old knight turned into the blow and lashed out at the vampire with a rising swing. The creature brought its sword back up much faster than anticipated and Reynard cried out in shock as the serrated sword snapped his own blade in half. He swung the hilt half of his shattered sword at the vampire's face but Sir Gerrard flicked it out of his hands with contemptuous ease.

"It is over Grail Knight," the vampire said as it cannoned a fist into Reynard's wounded side, doubling him over with pain. "Let me reward you for your bravery." Sir Gerrard stepped forward and embraced the old knight in a death grip as it made to bite his throat.

"Where is your Lady now, old tin knight?" It mocked as it revealed its glittering fangs, "where is she..."

Sir Gerrard hissed in shock and staggered backwards, letting Reynard drop. The vampire's hands scrabbled at its side, desperately trying to grab hold of the concealed rondel dagger that Reynard had thrust under its armpit, straight into its black heart, when it had embraced him.

The old Grail Knight stood up and stumbled wearily towards the vampire knight. The beast collapsed to the ground hissing as it began to die its final death. Slowly, Reynard bent to pick up the hilt-half of his shattered blade.

He stood over the writhing vampire, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth into his beard, and said through gritted teeth, "My name is Reynard de Germaine, knight of the Grail, and my Lady is always with me, beast." With a grunt, he slammed the broken half of his sword into Sir Gerrard's chest, piercing its black heart with another blade and pinning it to the ground. Flooded with adrenaline, Reynard staggered past the disintegrating vampire toward the light of the mustering ground.

The next few minutes were a haze as visions from his past danced in the twinkling light before his weary eyes. So addled was he that, without even realizing it, he emerged from the woods into the torchlight of the mustering ground, startling the men-at-arms acting as pickets for the camp. He pushed on for a few more steps and collapsed at the edge of the camp. The sentries came rushing and he heard them shouting.

"He's a Grail Knight! Fetch the count and a healer!" The cries rang out across the camp as the pickets scrambled to get help.

"Show him to me!" A helmeted knight, presumably the count, came into Reynard's field of sight The light from the torches seemed to get brighter, threatening to wash out Reynard's vision. He thought he heard Caroline calling his name but the count's voice drowned her out.

"By the Lady, what happened to you blessed one?" The count's strong arms supported the back of Reynard's head as he lay on the ground.

The dying Grail Knight spat out blood onto his beard and spoke, his voice soft and fading, "Blood Dragon... chapel burned... undead surprise attack... from woods... must rally..." he coughed up more blood and shuddered. His wounds were strangely numb now. In fact, he could feel little of his entire body. The light grew brighter and for a second, Reynard thought he saw his son cradling him, with his wife hovering over the young man's shoulder.

"Caroline, I... Maurice, I... am sorry I was not there... my Lady... Caroline..." the last words sighed out of the Grail Knight as the light overwhelmed his vision. He gave one more shuddering breath and fell still.

Count Maurice de Germaine looked down at the dirt and blood-caked features of the Grail Knight who had been his father. Maurice knew that the Lady had not found his father wanting in his final hours. The old knight must have come through hell itself to deliver his warning and in doing so, he had saved the life of all the Knights Errant encamped here and, unknowingly, the life of his estranged son, who was leading this particular contingent to join the Errantry War.

"You were here this time. Duty unto death, father," Maurice whispered as he gently closed the old knight's sightless eyes and rose to his feet. The count drew his sword and bellowed his family's war-cry as the camp rose to arms around him.

"Duty unto death!"

All across the mustering ground, the proud knights of Bretonnia answered his call with a roar of affirmation and made ready for war.