The two swordsmen fought against a trio of swordsmen, a swordsman standing off to the side and two spearman, one of whom had a broken left arm and could not defend himself with a shield, unlike the others.
The two swordsmen, realizing that they were outnumbered, looked at each other, and together they charged sharply at the sword-wielding enemy.
The two of them attacked him from different directions, showering him with a hail of blows, one of which struck him in the head. Their enemy began to fall into the road, toward those who were already on it.
The uninjured copjack obviously did not expect such a great swiftness of his opponents by the end of the fight and at first he was confused. But at the moment when a successful blow to the head seemed to leave him with a wounded companion against two unharmed enemies, he struck the side of the nearest of them with his spear, and the latter began to fall on the road.
All this time the wounded fighter stood with the spear in his healthy hand. His other hand, which had been clutching a shield, was now hanging limply along his body. His partner, who had just successfully stabbed his spear into his opponent's side, immediately covered himself with his shield, and a second swordsman armed with a bastard appeared in front of him.
The latter, realizing that the odds were not on his side, took a couple of steps back, saw the dagger lying on the road, sharply threw the sword in his left hand, bent down, picked up the dagger, and without unbending, threw it at the wounded spearman.
The dagger reached its target and plunged into his chest, just below the neck. The wounded man didn't even make an attempt to defend himself, dodge or pull the dagger out, he knelt down and then fell to the ground. Apparently, although he maintained an upright position, the wound in his arm was painful and a lot of blood had been lost.
His partner had time to take advantage of the situation, and while the swordsman was throwing his dagger, he threw a spear at him and hit him in the left forearm. The armor stopped and cushioned the blow, but the swordsman dropped his sword and looked angrily at his arm, which was already full of blood.
Raising his sword with his right hand, he took a step towards the swordsman, who had managed to pick up his mace from the ground, pulling it out of the dead warrior's hands.
This weapon was clearly not familiar to him, and awkwardly swinging it, he missed, trying to hit his opponent, and not stopping the inertia of the blow, exposed his side. The swordsman immediately pierced his thigh with his sword, and then, continuing his maneuver, was at his back and stuck his sword into it.
The victorious fighter, clasping the wound with his healthy hand, wrinkled his nose and surveyed the battlefield. He was the only one on his feet, most of the other warriors were wounded. Alexander could even hear their hearts beating, or rather feel it. The swordsman looked around, turning his back to the young lad. It was at that moment that Alexander made the decision to attack.
There might not have been another chance. The decision itself came spontaneously, just like the attack on the wolf, but already making a dash, he realized that everything was right. It was better to attack and kill a man who wasn't guilty of anything than to expose almost three hundred people to the attack. Or rather, vampires. The man had little doubt about the latter.
The swordsman had time to turn around at the noise of Alexander tearing through the bushes, but he could do nothing more. The naked man who had attacked him from the forest had ripped his throat out with his fingers. The dead man did not see how the same man then greedily fell on his torn throat and began to drink blood.
Running was easy. It was even enjoyable, despite the clothes. Strange as it may seem, it was worth going through a small part of the day in the nude, and now the clothes on his body were perceived as something foreign. The fact that the clothes were dirty and that they were the dirt of other people also contributed to this. Whose odor was so easily sensed.
Having attacked and killed the winner of the fight, Alexander drank the blood and learned many interesting things. Too much - as it turned out, absorbing the memories, emotions, feelings and knowledge of a sentient being was not the same as doing the same to an animal. When all this information poured into him, he felt like he was drowning in the sea, and this sea was alien to him.
After draining the man, Alexander let go of the dead body, and when it fell, plopped down beside it. The exact time that he lay beside his victim, he did not dare to say, but something like half an hour he just lay there and digested everything that the blood gave him. In that time two of the wounded had died.
But that didn't stop him from digesting the knowledge that had fallen upon him. It could well be said that Alexander had caught a rush, as drug addicts say. But whether it was so, and whether the sensations were similar, he could not say, for he had never used drugs in that other world.
The other world. After all, he was not on Earth now. This world was called Odia and it was in its feudal stage of development. And it even had magic. I didn't want to laugh at that fact. The man, whose blood Alexander drank, knew about magic, saw its manifestations, knew a lot about the world, as he was an old and experienced mercenary. He had seen elves and goblins.
He'd heard of all sorts of creatures, including those that lived in this area. But he'd never heard of vampires. That frightened and pleased him at the same time. The vampire wanted to think about what he now knew, but the movement of one of the wounded brought him to his senses and made him hurry up.
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