Chapter 50

Leonid shouted loudly, calling for the rear squad to attack, and rushed toward the camp. The battle was already raging there. The soldiers were still fighting, being at a numerical advantage, but their commanders were in a very unenviable position.

Sergey jumped over the wall and did not turn around, but continued moving forward. He stabbed the archer, and without paying attention to the settling body, he continued on his way. He chose the mage as his main target and ran towards him. Alexander didn't bother with the soldiers either.

Deciding that the commander was more important, he attacked the knight. He had time to bare his sword and even fought off the vampire's first lunge: training from childhood made noble men dangerous opponents in hand-to-hand combat. For almost everyone, except, of course, the angry vampire.

A couple of swings of his weapon - and Alexander's opponent fell to the ground, his helmet flying off from the blow, blood flowing from his broken head. The vampire took immediate advantage of it. The vampire immediately took advantage of it, and immediately fought off the lunge of the half-elf who was trying to save his superior.

The officer did everything right, forcing the enemy to leave his target and switch. His first and last mistake was a move - when he covered the knight with his body. The vampire knocked out the enemy who had gotten too close with an electric shock.

Removing his hand from the knight's head wound, Alexander surveyed the battlefield. His mind was in order, but the savage rage completely ignored him, demanding more victims.

The mage jumped out from behind the cart not at all from where Sergei expected to see him, so he managed to send out one spell before the vampire piled on top of him. "Fire Arrow" hit the back of one of the attackers and sent him to the ground. Alexander grabbed the still living knight and sprang with him towards the wounded man.

With the strongest blow, the shestoper blew off the head of his burden and threw the headless body, from which blood was gushing, right on the wounded man. He was much less injured than the girl in the previous attack, his ring armor had taken the brunt of the blow and was now a pitiful sight. The wound began to heal right before his eyes, and he even found the strength to turn over to put his hand to the corpse's neck.

At that moment an arrow pierced Alexander's shoulder. The archers, who had been left completely unattended, calmly shot at the attackers, but to their horror, their volleys, while finding their targets, did not kill. Before the eyes of the former soldiers, terrible and incomprehensible creatures, with arrows sticking out of their bodies, continued to kill the infantry at the wall. There was almost a massacre going on, and the archers could not prevent it.

Alexander rushed to the archer, but he was already dead. A sharpened stick was sticking out of his chest. The second squad reached the battlefield. Showing who should be attacked, he himself went to Sergei, who held the mage and drank his blood.

The appearance of new actors was the last straw for the defenses. The soldiers ran away, trying to overcome the wall behind which they were hiding. They were overtaken both by those they had just fought and those who had only recently approached. A massacre had begun.

The soldiers, mad with fear, did not even try to offer any resistance. Dead and alive, they were simply torn to pieces. Losing their minds from the blood and actions of their comrades, the vampires scurried around the camp in search of the living. Ten minutes later, none of the campers were alive.

Walking among the corpses and their parts, Alexander tried to bring the vampires to their senses. What was happening in the camp was beyond description. The mind refused to recognize that everything they had seen had been committed by people who had recently been absolutely adequate and civilized. His understanding of the situation was aggravated by his direct participation in the bacchanalia. Though now was not the time to drool - it was necessary to make everyone look good.

Then the collection of trophies began. The first thing was to collect all the weapons and armor with clothes. Then came the turn of personal belongings. It took almost an hour to pack everything more or less valuable. Tents, tents, money, blankets, warm clothes, awnings from the wagons. By the time it was time to head out, everyone was loaded like a merchant's horse.

All but five men moved out toward the camp. The remaining men were to restore order to the camp. Their task was to burn the corpses. They broke down the carts, built a huge funeral pyre in the center, where they placed the dead.

The squad went south along the track, carrying the spoils on their shoulders. It was still necessary to make a detour and try to leave as few traces as possible, although how to do it, with such booty on their shoulders, was known only to God. Alexander was the last to go. When he noticed his friend standing and looking back at the destroyed camp, he stopped himself.

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