When he woke in the morning, the rain had stopped and the warm rays of the sun were striking Vladimir's face through the window. He sat up, rubbed his face, and climbed down the stairs to the tavern to leave the inn. The bar was nearly empty; it was a calm, pleasant morning.
Just as he reached the door, an old man stumbled in. The lines on his face told of hardship. The man fell to his knees before Vladimir. "Please help me. I'll pay whatever you ask," he pleaded. Vladimir regarded him. "What happened, old man? What do you want?" he asked.
The old man was too frightened to look up. Shivering, he said, "T-trolls killed my wife. Please… my home isn't far just outside the city." Vladimir leaned forward and touched the old man's shoulder. "I will help you, but on one condition," he said. Tears streaming, the old man whispered, "W-whatever you ask, I'll give." Unable to bear the sight of him, Vladimir answered, "I want a place to stay and food."
He helped the old man to his feet. The old man smiled through his tears. "May the Light of the Seven guide your path, young one," he said. Together they left the inn and stepped onto the rain-slicked ground. A short way ahead they reached the stables. Vladimir strapped his pack to a horse and mounted; the old man seemed too weak to ride. Vladimir helped him into the saddle, then climbed back up and they set off from the city.
The fog from the previous day still clung to the outskirts. The old man rode in silence, anxious. As the mist thinned, they entered the village. Mud and dung thickened the narrow lanes. Soon they stood before a small wooden house. Vladimir dismounted and helped the old man down.
He approached the door and eased it open. Inside was like a cave dark, save for a slant of light from the front door. A foul stench hit them. Flies swarmed the air; an old woman and an old man lay on the floor. The old man behind Vladimir laughed cruelly. "Welcome to your grave, Vladimir!" he sneered.
Suddenly the old man struck a heavy blow from behind; Vladimir reeled and smashed into the wooden wall. A voice rang in his head "Be strong, Vlad!" He staggered to his feet and faced his attacker. The old man in the doorway had become something else. At first glance he looked human, but a reddish gleam lingered in his eyes. His shadow twitched as if with a life of its own, drawing in the darkness around him.
When a wave of anger or fear passed over him, his face hardened like cracked stone; curled, bony horns burst from his brow and thin, black membranous wings like a bat'sunfurled from his back. His fingertips were sharp and glassy, as if to scrape the very shadows. He was a nightmare in human shapea creature from the Underworld that grew stronger with fear: a Kharzul.
Vladimir drew his sword, burning with rage, ready to tear the house down. The Kharzul laughed, baring pointed teeth. "You thought you could run from us, foolish human? I will not be the last. Kill me, and more will come for you. They watch you you cannot escape!" it hissed. Vladimir met the creature's blood-red eyes and snarled, "Send whatever beasts you want I'll cut you all to pieces!"
The voice returned in his head: "Be strong, Vlad!" He glanced at the blade in his hand; it glowed dimly. The creature screeched and lunged. Vladimir stepped back and struck a sweeping blow; the monster's arm went flying. The Kharzul's face twisted with disbelief. "No! Impossible an ordinary man, an ordinary sword cannot wound me. You will pay, cursed one. I will tear you limb from limb and feast on your heart!" it spat. A sly grin crossed Vladimir's face. "I'll make you eat those words, you wretched thing," he snapped.
He swung the glowing sword at the creature's head, but it leapt and clung to the ceiling. "I have no time for play come down, and let's finish this," Vladimir said. The Kharzul dropped and rebounded off a side wall, bearing down on him; Vladimir met it with a perfectly timed strike. The creature's head came free from its body. Sunlight suddenly flooded the dark room, and where the light touched, the beast dissolved into mist.