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Untitled Part 5

"Wait, wait!" King Malfire shouted. The two Vampires that were holding him did not listen and instead continued to drag him along without giving him the chance to talk or explain himself. All he could do was shout. "Duke is alive!"

"Stop!" Alfie shouted at the top of his lungs. "Bring him back!"

The two Vampires did not wait a second. They followed his orders immediately and dragged his Father back to him. They threw him to the floor so that he was on his knees and looking up to his son.

"If this is a cruel trick, Father..." Alfie said in a threatening voice. Alfie crouched so he was only an inch or two higher than his Father and spoke him. "Then the result would not be pleasant."

"Duke Hartley, well, he's dead, but-" Malfire said quietly so that only Alfie could hear.

"But what?" Alfie hissed with rage.

"Duke had a son," Malfire said quietly.

"Where is he then? My grandson." Alfie said slowly, grabbing his Father by his shoulder and gripping it tightly so he winced in pain.

"I don't know much about him. His name is Francis Hartley and-" Malfire was cut off.

"It's now Glarian. Glarian Garada."

Alfie turned to see Glarian standing tall and proud, puffing out his shoulders so that he looked larger.

"Come on Granddad, I would have thought you would have figured it out. Glarian Garada? Think."

"Adarag Nairalg" Alfie said slowly before translating. "I am blood."

"To be honest, I would have thought you would have recognised me. Mum always said I looked just like Dad."

"How do you know High-Mala?" Alfie asked suspiciously.

"Dad taught me. Dad said you taught him when he was a boy. Rua Salla Karkh."

"We are family." Alfie translated. Alfie stared at the man for a while, trying to figure out what to do next. Unlike Wesley, who was in the body of a sixteen-year-old and relied on others, Francis – or Glarian – was a man. He had aged himself until he was about twenty-four and built himself up so he was at his physical peak. He relied on no one and he was a warrior. Not that Alfie cared whether or not Wesley was a true warrior or not, Glarian sure was.

"You could have told me yesterday who you were, Glarian."

"You can call me Francis, I've missed Francis." Glarian, or Francis, said with a smile. "I was going to tell you but then Wesley came out of nowhere and, well... We were about to go to War, and I don't think you would have coped if you finally found your family for us to die. Obviously I didn't die though. What happened to Wesley?"

"A Heru ripped his heart out." Alfie winced at the thought of it.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Francis' smile faded. "Do you have any more children?"

I leaned forward. This was the question that has been on my mind for days. I felt like I knew nothing about Alfie. The past few days he has been a completely different man.

"He had a few daughters as well but I think they're all dead apart from one." Malfire answered for Alfie. Alfie quickly kicked his Father in the stomach.

"I don't want to get your hopes up, Alfie." Francis changed the subject. "I've been on my own for a long time and I don't need family any more.

"There's a lot of stipulation of how old you are. The great legend of Garada. Answer it for us."