Page 13 of Captive
"Methods not requiring mechanical components," Rockbreaker added, joining them with fresh battle scars visible on his arms. "They adapt more quickly than expected without their machines."
Boarstaff studied the maps, noting the methodical expansion of vampire search patterns. "How long before they reach our outer markers?"
"A few days at most." Thornmaker traced potential routes with a scarred finger. "We should relocate the most vulnerable. The children, the elders."
"To where?" Rockbreaker challenged. "The caves are too close to likely search paths. The northern settlements already strain their resources."
"The underground tunnels," Moonsinger suggested. "Beneath the village - old trade routes to dwarven territories. The passages haven't been used for trade in generations, but they remain viable for shelter."
Thornmaker spread the detailed map across the council table, its weathered surface marked with generations of notations. His scarred finger traced the eastern approach where vampire hunting parties had been spotted.
"They've established three main search patterns," he said, marking each with a stone token. "The primary group follows what they believe is the vampire's blood trail. Two smaller parties sweep the flanks, ensuring nothing escapes their notice."
Boarstaff leaned forward, studying the methodical progression. "Their pace?"
"Faster than we anticipated." Thornmaker placed another token to mark their most recent position. "They've abandoned their mechanized scouts entirely. Using trackers with hunting hounds instead." He reached into his leather pouch and withdrew a small flat stone etched with a curved, ancient rune that seemed to pulse with faint reddish energy. With deliberate care, he placed it on the map. "And this suggests they're employing magic we haven't seen them use in generations."
"Blood magic?" Moonsinger asked, her aged finger hovering above the mark without touching it. The rune-stone was part of their tactical markers, rarely used since vampires had abandoned such practices for mechanical precision.
"Possibly." Thornmaker's expression darkened. "Our scouts observed them gathering samples from the clearing where Ochrehand first encountered the vampire. Not just physical evidence, but something more ritualistic. They're collecting his blood, performing old ceremonies with it." His finger tapped the stone, which clinked softly against the map's surface. "They're returning to practices from before they relied on their machines."
Rockbreaker moved to the map's edge, pointing to where their territories met. "We could funnel them here," he suggested, indicating a ravine that cut through dense forest. "Force them to narrow their formation. Our hunters have prepared false trails that would lead their flanking parties astray."
"At what cost?" Boarstaff noted the villages marked near the proposed ambush site.
"We've already begun evacuating the three closest villages," Rockbreaker replied. "The underground tunnels beneath the village can shelter them temporarily."
"And if the vampires detect the evacuation?" Boarstaff traced another potential path on the map. "They'd realize we know their approach. Their tactics would shift again. It's good that they can't advance much during the day."
Thornmaker grunted agreement. "Better to slow them here." His finger circled a section of deep forest where ancient trees grew sodensely even orcs found passage difficult. "We can stage natural obstacles. Fallen trees. Disrupted trails. Nothing that appears deliberate, but enough to force them into more time-consuming routes."
"Our hunters know those woods," Rockbreaker added. "They can lay false trails leading away from the village. Make it appear the vampire headed north or west."
Boarstaff considered the proposal, weighing the risks against necessary time. "How long would this delay them?"
"A day. Perhaps two if we're fortunate." Thornmaker's practical assessment carried no false optimism. "They're determined, Warchief. Whoever leads this hunt knows what they're doing."
Moonsinger leaned closer, her aged eyes finding patterns others might miss. "Their search pattern suggests they believe the vampire still lives. These aren't movements of those seeking merely to recover a body."
The observation sent a ripple of tension through the council. If the vampires somehow knew Sebastian survived...
"We need that time," Boarstaff decided, straightening from the map. "Implement Thornmaker's strategy. Small teams, experienced hunters only. No direct engagement. I want delayed vampires, not dead ones. Use more caution when the sun sets."
"And the settlements directly in their path?" Rockbreaker asked.
"Complete evacuation by nightfall." Boarstaff's tone left no room for debate. "The underground tunnels are our best option - the network beneath the village connects to old trade routes. Send a messenger to the dwarven trading post, we may need to invoke the old treaties if this search extends to their borders." He could imagine how angry the dwarves would be if a band of vampire nobles reached their territory, but some things couldn't be helped.
The council members nodded, each already calculating their responsibilities. Thornmaker gathered the stone markers as he prepared to brief the border scouts. Rockbreaker departed to coordinate the evacuations, while Moonsinger remained, her ancient gaze still studying the map's representation of vampire territory.
"They adapt quickly without their machines," she observed. "A dangerous sign."
"They use what works," Boarstaff replied, tracing the citadel's outline on the map. "When one approach fails, they try another. As we would in their position. How long before they reach the village if our delaying tactics fail?"
"A few days," she said with the certainty of one who had calculated many such approaches over decades. "Less if they maintain their current pace or discover more direct routes."
A commotion at the council chamber entrance drew their attention. A young female orc hurried in, her apprentice shaman robes marked with fresh herbs and crystalline dust. Lunacall, one of Ochrehand's most promising students, paused to catch her breath, her expression urgent.
"Warchief," she said with the formal bow of a shaman-in-training, "Master Ochrehand sends me. The prisoner's transformation has reached a critical stage." Her fingers wove a small pattern in the air that produced a brief flare of green light, a visual representation of what's happening in Sebastian's body. The miniature projection showed brass components twisting into strange, organic shapes.
