Alara's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Everyone? All two-thousands of you?” she asked with a bewildered expression on her face. I leaned in and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Yes, all of us. I have a bad feeling about this one, so I don't want to leave anyone behind. We may need every blade if--.”
I stopped without finishing the sentence. It was no wonder she looked upset. After all, hearing myself say it, even I wasn’t convinced everything would be alright.
“Raz!“Alara hissed, slamming her tiny fist against my large, hairy chest. “Don't you dare say something like that and leave me to go out! Do you want me to die from worry?”
Great, big tears spilled from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks within a single heartbeat. I could feel her emotions, a tight constricting band that threatened to smother all hope. I did not try to play upon her fears. What she was going through was not something I wanted for her. Still, truths were better than falsehoods for those you cared about; she deserved that much. The simple fact that I could still feel that way about a human was a minor miracle. One I cherished.
I looked away, not able to meet her eyes.
“I’m—sorry, Alara,” I whispered, “sorry for upsetting you. That wasn’t my intention. I’m just a little nervous about what is going on in the King’s court right now. Can you forgive me?”
I propped myself up on my elbow and pulled her tight against me, kissing her forehead.
“You’re forgiven, but—.”
“Yeah, you heard right. I’ve got a bad feeling about this mission. There is a rumor about some kind of breakthrough, but that’s just it. No reports, no support, and no clear instructions. All we got was an arrogant ‘get ready and get the hell out tomorrow’ from the King. I’m—,” I took a deep breath, “I’m scared for you and my people, afraid I might return to nothing.”
“This isn't the first time you’ve been gone. Why would this time be any different?” she asked, burrowing into me as hard as she could.
I sighed and lay on my back, her head on my chest as I traced my long nails across her naked back.
“Can we just lay here like this, tonight?” she asked, after a while. “I’m not in the mood. I’ve got my—.”
“Shhh, yes, I can smell it. Don’t worry, it’s enough just having you in my arms.”
Alara let out a contented whimper. She must have been worried I’d want to ravage her while she was on her days, but I wasn’t that big of a monster, at least not toward her.
“What about us? Who’ll be visiting Newfolk while you’re gone?”
“I don’t know, they didn’t say. Whoever it is, make sure you keep a vial of my blood with you wherever you go. If something goes wrong, drink the blood and escape into the woods. Hide in the mountains to the East. I will find you.”
“Don’t talk about such things. Please. It only makes me more nervous.”
“Nervous or not, I want you prepared. You know what you signed up for when you became my—lover. I have many more enemies than allies or friends. Never forget that.”
“Alright,” she mused as her left hand traced up my leg. Her small hand wrapped around my bulging shaft, barely able to encompass its girth. “Do you want me to—?”
I didn’t reply, waiting for her to go on. She knew I would never say no to such an offer. Even if she was otherwise unable to satisfy her own pleasure, I would be taken care of. It only made me love her more
She traced her hand around my length and stroked up and down, slowly at first, but gaining speed as her head traveled down my chest. She stopped right at my tip, her lips kissing it gently before caressing the head with her tongue and then sliding it into her mouth. What followed next was half an hour of pure bliss. I lay back and enjoyed every facet of it until she was done. She got up and off the bed, walked to the kitchen, and filled the tub with water.
“Will you join me?” she asked, holding her hand out toward me. I got up with a smile. The woman really knew how to spoil me before sending me out.
She dipped a rag into the lukewarm water, lathered it up with a hunk of soapstone, and ran it across my shoulders and down my back, scrubbing me clean. We Vampires didn’t have a need for such niceties as bathing. We couldn’t sweat, so we didn’t stink other than a faint stench of death that we radiated.
“How is Grestal doing? Is he taking good care of everyone?”
“He—yeah, he does. At least to the best of his ability. The Vampires, especially the weaker Lords, give him trouble wherever he goes, though, but he doesn’t let it show.”
“I see. Well, that will change one day soon,” I growled. They all did it on purpose just to spite me. I would pay them back ten-fold once I was back.
“Don’t do anything stupid, please. Many lives depend on you,” she whispered.
“I know, Alara. Everything will change once I’m back.”
Chapter Four
Sylvana hopped from tree to tree and from rooftop to rooftop, stopping on one of the tallest buildings that overlooked the monstrosity that was the Vampire capital of Celonia. The city looked dead. Everything was colored a dull black and gray. Few pedestrians roamed the streets during the late-night hours as most were afraid for their lives. After all, those who left their homes after midnight were fair game according to the law. Damned Vampire scourge. If only she could get away from them.
The sound of metallic boots slamming down on cobblestone drew her attention. She looked to her right, seeing a Vampire guard unit march down the main street, armored and armed to the teeth. Deciding she had nothing better to do, Sylvana followed them from above, sticking to the shadows and casting a cloaking spell on herself to stay hidden from sight. The spell wouldn’t help if they smelled her, though. They would be on her in seconds. After all, barely anyone knew she belonged to the King. All they would see was a priceless aphrodisiac, at least until the moment they sank their teeth into her pale, thin flesh.
The group marched on, oblivious to her presence for over half a mile, and turned down an alleyway, stopping right in front of a worn-down home. The Vampire in charge walked up to the door and kicked it, shattering the doorframe and forcing it open. Screams and pleas for mercy followed as a group of men and women were torn from their home, the women dragged by their hair and then having their skirts ripped right off their bodies.
One of the men lunged at a Vampire guard, screaming and swinging a sword. Unfortunately, he had no chance and was cut in half by the guard’s broadsword. The others cowered in fear like cattle ready for the slaughter. She turned away, wanting to flee the scene before she was found, but she couldn’t. If nothing else, she could etch their fear and hatred into her memory and try to bring every Vampire she could down with her.
Sighing and shaking her head, she dropped lower on the next rooftop and focused on the group of Humans below, her palm facing them. A chill ran up and down her arm, focusing on the palm as she glared at the Vampires below.
“Ice Rupture,” she whispered.
The man who was cut in half suddenly turned to ice, his torso expanding quickly and then exploding. Shards of gore peppered the alley, shredding the poor Humans to pieces and wounding the guards. Sylvana merged again with the shadows and disappeared across the tall rooftops. It pained the Elven woman more than anything to hurt innocent people, but the fate that awaited the poor blood sacks, as the Vampires called them, was far worse than what she had done.
Ten minutes later, she arrived on top of the main smithy and hid for a moment, ensuring no one had followed her. Having done so, she slid down the roof and perched atop the fifth-floor balcony. An opening there led to a flight of stairs that were usually not accessible, but she had a key and used it to open the gate that provided access to the garret.
The large attic Sylvana shared with her sister was a spacious apartment, separated into a living room, kitchen, a bedroom for each of them, and a bathroom. The rooms were spartan, furnished with only the main necessities. Beds, tables,
chairs, a couple of kitchen utensils, a stove, and a bathtub in the bathroom, along with an improvised toilet seat that dumped everything into the sewers below.
She had just dropped down on a chair when a loud knock startled her. She listened closely, using her Elven senses to feel for who it might be.
“Who is it?” she asked, barely audible.
Three loud knocks followed, a pause, and then a fourth.
“It’s me,” an equally weak voice replied from the other side of the door. The door creaked open, revealing a young woman clad in full battle-dress. She looked ready for war and Sylvana hated it. A strange mix of Mithrill over leather hugged her chest, shoulders, and belly, ending in a leather skirt that hugged her legs tightly, coming only halfway down to her knees. Twin daggers hung from each hip and a cowl was draped over her head, hiding her face. She couldn’t hide her large chest, however, so Sylvana could at least recognize her by that detail.
“Have you been crying again, sister?” the Elven woman asked as she walked into the room. She came up to Sylvana and hugged her, then sat across from her on the other chair in the room and studied her critically.
“Maybe,” she replied and lit over twenty candles around the room with a flic of her wrist. Elemental magic sure was handy in most situations.
“You need to get a hold of yourself,” her sister sighed, “or we’ll end up the way we always feared we would.”
That reminder snapped Sylvana out of her moping. She got up, shook her head, then pulled her hair back, and tied it up in a ponytail.
“Help me put on my gear, Helena?” she asked. The sister smiled gently, nodding her head. She rose and walked up to a shelf on the wall, pulled down Sylvana's Mithrill and leather armor, then helped her put it on. Dual daggers followed a sheath on each hip, and finally, the bow on her back.
The sisters had inherited the gear from their mother. It had been her first and second battle set that she had used in her youth; cared for lovingly, it looked as new and shiny as it had hundreds of years ago. A magical quiver completed their ensembles, which were unique to Blood Elves. With only a few drops of blood, they could have an almost endless supply of magical arrows; not needing to craft them from wood, feathers, and glue.
In another five minutes, they’d straightened up the place, hiding anything that gave a clue as to who they were before slipping out the smithy. They took to the roof and made their way towards the Manor of Lords, keeping to the shadows as they went.
Earning a few glances from guards who knew them well, the two entered the manor garden. It almost looked like a palace being the home for all thirty Vampire Lords and Ladies; though they were far from Lords and Ladies, she thought. Dirty Vampire scum.
Each Vampire had a wing of the sprawling estate for themselves. Five floors tall with six wings, the more important lords were at the top, while the younger and weaker ones were at the bottom. One wing stood empty on the fifth floor. It belonged to Lord Raziel but was never used. From what they learned, the Vampire Lord lived with his coven away from the King's court. It frustrated Sylvana: why hadn't that wretched King given the sisters that wing? Or one on the lower floors if another Lord moved up to occupy the vacant rooms? All of the occupants of the manor knew the two Elven ladies, with the exception of Lord Raziel who was never there.
They climbed up the tall tree closest to the northwest wing. It belonged to Crozan, one of the top five Lords, both in military power and in raw strength. From the way he sat on his improvised throne, it was obvious he’d been waiting for them.
“Is everything set?” Sylvana asked as she sat down in a chair opposite Crozan, her short skirt barely covering the strip of leather between her legs. His eyes raked up her legs and chest, taking in all that she was: a Goddess. Helena stood next to her sister, pulling the hem of her skirt up slightly to reveal a bit more than she should, getting the Vampire excited. His most fervent unfulfilled dream and unsatisfied desire were to go down on the sisters, doing whatever he wanted to them. They could see it in his eyes and knew that if Raziel died, Crozan would get his wish no matter what Lefrand promised them.
“You look as good as ever, love,” Crozan cooed as he licked his lips. His eyes undressed them as he bared his fangs at the two women before leaning back into his large chair after studying them for a moment too long, still staring fixedly at the gap between Sylvana’s legs.
“Up here, lover boy,” Sylvana said, trying to sound as calm as possible as she crossed her legs, not in the mood for games today. Everything needed to go as planned or both sisters would die along with their prey.
A flash of irritation passed across Crozan's face before he turned serious. He had obviously hoped to have the two keep him company, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight. Not ever.
“We leave a couple of hours after they do. Having a train of carts and wagons, their pace will be slow so we can circle around in front of them easily,” the Vampire Lord said. “After we burn Newfolk and take the few that matter prisoner, we’ll proceed with killing them.”
“Why kill the blood sacks?” Sylvana arched an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you rather suck them dry?”
“Nothing that has to do with him is good enough for me,” he growled. “We will take the few who matter to him with us to the ambush spot for entertainment purposes. I’ll kill them in front of his very eyes, throwing him into a fit of rage, then kill him and whoever remains. You’ll see how great I am, and maybe, will finally let me ravage that fine piece of ass.”
Crozan never knew how to take no for an answer. He clenched his fists on the armrests of the chair and tensed his legs, ready to stand. The sisters, however, had no intention of indulging his fantasies. They would rather die than be defiled by such a wretched creature like him.
“You know who the King put in command of this ambush, Crozan. Never forget that, even though you sleep on the top floor,” Sylvana warned, tracing her fingers down her thighs and over both daggers. She winked at him as he lunged for them and sprang backward, right out the window. Helena’s peal of laughter followed after her a fraction of a second later, as both Elves were swallowed up by the shadows.
“Bitches!” he roared, standing at the window and clutching the frame. “Don’t think you’ll evade me forever!” He sneered and turned back into his room, picking up the chair and throwing it through the window. “Just you wait! I’ll have you for dinner by nightfall! Not even the King will stand in my way!” The blazing hunger in his eyes as he stood at the shattered window, not even fifty feet from where the two crouched, sent a chill down their spines.
The sisters waited in the thick of the tree until he was gone and sighed in relief. Crozan was a monster, rivaled only by Raziel and the King. Sure, if the other Lords or Ladies ganged up on the power-hungry fool, they would be able to kill him, but when it came to raw power, he was one of the toughest around.
Some thirty minutes later, the sisters arrived at the one place which they visited before every mission: a large statue at the foot of a majestic waterfall overlooking a massive lake. The area was lit brightly by moonbeams and a mass of fireflies. The Elves sat, back to back, at the base of the statue while enjoying the peaceful night.
“Leave it to a Vampire Lord to come up with a great plan. It’s just perfect,” Sylvana sneered. “Why the hell would we leave after they do? Why not go ahead and just wait for them?”
Helena sighed, not really able to give her sister a smart reply. Especially not when it came to Crozan, who was one of Lefrand's favorites. It didn’t matter that the King had given them command, the sisters had no delusions they would be calling the shots. After all, Crozan was one of those types that followed orders blindly, but only by those who were stronger than him.
“This is it, huh?” Helena asked, her voice wavering.
“I guess, so please, Hella, do as I say when I say so. It’s critical, so promise me you’ll follow my lead,” Sylvana replied. Helena turned around in surprise.
“What have you done?” sh
e asked as her eyes turned into slits. When Sylvana didn’t reply, Helena let out another sigh and nodded. She felt an incredible weight press down on her. “I will, sister love. I will.”
Chapter Five
“Why the hell isn’t he back yet?” Slayer grumbled as he played with his knife. He broke the uncomfortable silence at the small, square table, where he sat with the rest of his companions. The tension could almost be cut with a knife.
“He’s probably with his lover, can you blame him?” Stalker replied in a harsh whisper. His hand moved from candle to candle, lighting the room up beyond need. At least they didn’t have to sit in almost full darkness when Raziel wasn’t around. It didn’t matter that a decade had passed since he took them in and started infusing them with his blood, creating Hybrids from them who were stronger, faster, more endurable, able to see in the dark along with whatever else was inhumanly possible. Still, it wasn’t as easy for them to enjoy the darkness as Vampires did. A lot of mental ‘prowess’ went into that.
“I don’t understand what he sees in her. She’s so—ordinary,” Stalker murmured and fidgeted on his chair. The wooden leg snapped beneath his weight, throwing him against the table and to the floor. Sentinel laughed as he punched his downed comrade on the shoulder.
“You need to drink less, even the chair dislikes when you’re drunk!” Slayer snickered.
“Hah! Still angry he declined your sister, Slayer?” Sentinel added as he gulped his own glass down as if it was mere water. Stalker followed his lead as he raised a glass to Slayer’s sister.
“To your sister, Slayer!” Sentinel bellowed, drunk to the core. Stalker shot up from the floor, but fell down again, hit his head against the floor and passed out. The other two men looked at each other and burst out in renewed laughter. Some held their liquor better than others.
“Weakling!” Sentinel bellowed. A knock on the door made him stop and forget about saying anything else he was about to add.
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