Tower of Ancients

by Jaeger Mitchells

“Watch it, here they come,” Helena hissed, as the sound of hooves on stone and the clang of metal on metal echoed faintly in the distance.

  Sylvana looked around one last time. She was smeared with mud from head to toe. Leaves were strewn all around them and they were camouflaged with branches, as well as their cloaking magic. Elves were nothing if not forest folk, masters of disguise and illusion.

  “I can hear them as well. How many do you think there are?” Sylvana whispered. Helena seemed to be thinking for a moment before she responded.

  “About eight to nine hundred? I can't tell as there are also carts being pulled. It interferes with my counting.”

  “Likewise, but I think it’s closer to two thousand than one,” Sylvana murmured, earning herself a kick.

  “Shhh!” Helena commanded, motioning for her to be quiet.

  The procession was long and moved slowly, the whole caravan was taking it’s time. Sylvana was boiling with impatience by the time they finally passed, ready to jump out and do battle then and there, but they needed to see what they were dealing with firsthand. At least that’s what Crozan told them. The bastard. He would die an equally horrible death for making them suffer in the mud. Now, they could get out of this frozen hell-hole and start riding towards Newfolk once Crozan and his army caught up.

  “Over a thousand soldiers, if I counted correct,” Sylvana murmured, a pensive look on her face. “He has taken his whole coven with him. All of his people are there, even the blacksmiths and the farmers. What the hell is he planning to do with all of them? Run away?”

  Helena didn't reply, instead, she thought hard about what his next move might be. Had he found out about the ambush? Had he gotten a jump on the King and decided to run? Such a turn of events could be quite favorable for them. No, she shouldn’t get her hopes up, at least not yet.

  “They’ll fight to the death, but die they will,” she finally replied. “If that’s what it takes for us to complete our mission, so be it.”

  A rustling sound behind them startled the sisters, but they remained silent until the sound came too close. Their eyes met and they nodded. Strangely, they couldn’t see where the sound originated from. They sprang up, quicker than the eye could follow and turned with their daggers out, ready to do battle. It was only a rabbit.

  Both elves released a pent-up breath and started giggling. This campaign would either make or break them, they were sure of it, and their anxiety demonstrated as much. They were on edge, their nerves raw, and eager to get on with the fight.

  “I have a bad feeling about this, Helena,” Sylvana said, shaking her head. “Let’s just run away and never come back. He might send some of his people after us, but I doubt they’d find us. There are dozens of other kingdoms where we could hide. Who would be able to find two Elves in a forest if they wanted to remain hidden? Not even Lefrand would.”

  “Now that would be an interesting thing for you to do,” a cold voice said from above them. Their blood ran cold as they realized Crozan stood there, watching them. “I was worried something might have happened to you, but here you are, planning an escape,” he snickered, a wicked grin plastered to his face.

  Slowly, both sisters turned towards him, afraid of what he might do to them. Relief flooded them when they saw he was alone. They probably couldn't take him on, even if they attacked him together, but it meant that no one else knew of their talk about escaping, except him.

  “Please, forgive us, Crozan. We were just afraid, running our mouths. Nothing serious,” Helena pleaded, bowing deeply to display her ample cleavage. He seemed to be enjoying their discomfort. The two elves stood there motionless, ready for him to do as he pleased.

  “Alright then, ladies. In return for me keeping my mouth shut, you two will make wild love to me. I’ve had anyone I wanted in this world except for you two, but that changes today. What do you think?”

  “Yes, that will do, my Lord,” both women said in unison, and then nodded at each other. They understood that they had just gained something incredibly valuable, time. Time was what they needed, for now. Eventually, they would have to get out of their debt or die trying.

  “Alright. Let's follow them at a safe distance. Once the column is out of earshot past Newfolk, we will start our secondary mission. Burn, pillage, and kill,” he laughed. “What did you two see? How many of them are there?”

  “It appeared to be the whole Coven. All of the soldiers, and even their families,” Sylvana breathlessly responded.

  Crozan spat and hissed, then growled and slammed his fist into a thick tree-trunk, splitting it in half.

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he growled, “but, whatever. We can still proceed with the mission; we outnumber them five to one. That damned bastard knows how to build and maintain a small army, much better than most of us.”

  Sylvana was about to ask a question, but Crozan sprang up and jumped off into the distance, leaving the sisters to themselves. They let out an audible groan and started shivering. One of the things the Elven siblings shared was strong emotions, so whenever they were close and one of them was afraid, the other echoed the sentiment.

  “We’ll need to take care of him. Somehow. Today. Maybe during the confusion of battle at the ambush?”

  “No shit. This is getting way out of hand already. There’s no way we’ll live more than a couple of days once this is over. Lefrand is done with us, and this bastard wants our skins,” Helena whispered.

  “Don’t you think Crozan smelled funny?” Sylvana asked as her sight started to blur. She felt something was off as her legs became too weak to support her and she collapsed to her side.

  “Shit! He—did he drug us?”

  “Cast a—a purifying spell, Helena!”

  “I c-can’t,” she wheezed out of breath as she sank to her knees. She couldn’t stay upright anymore, neither of them could. Their visions grew dark and soon they lay across each other on the muddy ground. The last thing they noticed before the blackness claimed them, was a pair of black, metallic boots.

  A pounding headache woke Sylvana after what seemed like an eternity. She felt dizzy and strange as if she’d been drugged. She pushed herself off the ground and sat up on her knees, rubbing at her eyes. They opened slowly, bright light flooding and causing her to squint at the unfamiliar pain. She closed them again, waited for a moment, and opened her eyes.

  “Helena?” she croaked, her throat dry and sore. When her sister didn’t reply, she looked around frantically, only to find her sibling’s unconscious body lying behind her. A snort pulled her attention back in front of her. A man sat at the head of a horse-pulled cart and spat into a bucket before putting something in his mouth again and chewing. The smell was horrendous.

  Feeling power leech back into her legs, she used wind magic to cut the rope that bound her wrists, allowing Sylvana to move freely once again.

  “What happened? Where are we?” she asked, her voice still weak and dry. She was seized by a violent coughing fit and nearly threw up. The man turned to face her and threw a flask at her chest, causing her to fall over onto her back. He looked up her skirt as she sprawled there, giggling. She struggled back upright and opened the flask, drinking the clear liquid hungrily and then pouring some in Helena’s mouth as well. Her sister coughed and spat the water out as she came to, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees.

  “Huh? What—where?” she rasped, barely managing to make a sound.

  “Here, drink some more.”

  Sylvana shoved the flask into her hands, helping her sit upright and drink. Helena chugged it down greedily before she rubbed the crust from her eyes and groaned out a sigh of relief.

  “We’re almost there, ladies,” the man up front laughed. “Newfolk is just around the bend. It’s a pity Lord Crozan made me babysit the two of you, or I’d be looting and pillaging already along the rest.”

  Fully awake, the sisters shot up and jumped off the cart. It took but a minute to run up the rise and around the bend. Their hea
rts clenched at the sight of a five-thousand-man and Vampire army having encircled the small town. A hail of burning arrows slammed into the palisade, as well as into the homes and any unfortunates not behind sufficient cover. It was one thing to worry about the destruction of Newfolk, but to see it happening was something else entirely.

  Sylvana and Helena couldn’t move, sheer terror freezing them in place. How would they be able to live with themselves after today? Screams reverberated across the valley as the massacre commenced.

  Chapter Nine

  I dropped to my knees as it became increasingly harder to breathe. What was this? Are human feelings managing to surface again? How the hell was that even possible? Why could I feel pain and suffering again after so many years? Why did I have to feel like this?

  “What are we going to do?” one of the riders asked as he walked up and stopped behind me. He kept his distance, not wanting to invade my private space but was smart enough to ask for instructions.

  Every single one of my emotions and thoughts projected into the twenty horsemen who accompanied me here. The horses started neighing, pawing their front hooves at the soil and stone beneath. My pain was their pain. My anger was their anger.

  I got up and wiped at the red streak that ran down my nose and right cheek, studying the situation. Why was I so indecisive? Even if she was dead, I owed it to her to get the remains and bury her somewhere. No, why was I so distressed? The attack had just started, hadn’t it? The walls hadn’t even caught fire yet, and only three homes had been hit by flaming arrows from what I could see from here.

  Maybe I could get inside and round up the survivors, any soldiers who were left, Grestal and Alara. No matter how much I cared about the woman, if I could only free my subordinate, Grestal, it would be worth risking my life. After all, he’d been here all these years protecting Alara from everyone. Yes, I would rush the assailants, get inside, and then break out again. It might just work if I had a little help.

  “You’ll send two of your riders back to get reinforcements. The rest of you will work the enemy’s flanks. Kill as many archers and infantry as you can without dismounting. If either you or your horse dies, the other will follow soon after so be careful, that’s an order. Harass these assholes and support me with a distraction,” I growled, “I’ll take the fight to Crozan.”

  “My Lord, are you—?”

  “I am. My goal is to save Alara and Grestal along with any other survivors. Bring cavalry and archers back with you. Now go!”

  Slightly intimidated by my fierce scowl, but far from afraid, the man rushed back and leaped on his majestic black horse before relaying my instructions to his men. Two of the riders rushed off without a backward glance, holding their weapons at the ready, prepared for any fool unwise enough to intercept them.

  I turned back to face Newfolk and drew my long sword with my right hand from its scabbard at my hip and clasped my shield in my left. One hand would seek revenge, while the other would protect those still living. The combination might look strange to others as only my Coven used this tactic, but it was highly effective, giving enough protection without limiting my mobility too much.

  Sending a vision to my black stallion to hide and wait for me, I breathed deeply three times and bared my fangs, hissing at the enemy. A bloodcurdling scream left my throat, which carried across the valley below, before launching myself off the ridge with inhuman speed, flying hundreds of feet through the air. In the seven seconds it took me to land, I reviewed the enemy’s disposition and determined on a course of action.

  From what I could see, the town’s defending archers were picking off assailants one by one, but their pace was far too slow. The defending infantry was spread thin, covering both gates which buckled under the enemy’s assault. They wouldn’t last long, no matter how hard they fought. First, I needed to draw the foe’s attention to myself, reducing the pressure from one flank while my cavalry did the same for the other.

  A large group of archers stood behind Pavise shields, protected while raining arrows down on the town. They would be the perfect start for my campaign of retribution, I realized, gliding in to land and sprinting off to my left.

  Taking a long way around, I rushed past the group of soldiers who stood in my way, and instead curved past them. No one had bothered attacking me yet, which was good as I wanted to finish the first group off as quickly as possible.

  At the last moment, as I veered closer to a group of about fifty swordsmen. They charged me, defending the archers the best they could and formed a shield-wall between me and my target. I threw myself at the thin line and cut through their weaker shields, swords, and armor, decapitating or maiming all in my way. The nearest two rows of archers turned to face me, their bows at the ready, but I was a blur of motion, far too quick for any to even have enough time to aim.

  Blows rang off my shield and arrows flew wide around me, several striking the remains of the shield wall in the back. Seventeen of the enemy lay dead by the time I stopped to assess the situation; the only wound I suffered was a single scratch from a stray dagger across my right wrist. I could almost taste their fear as they didn’t seem to have any idea what was going on.

  I plunged into the middle of the archers’ formation, grabbed one of them, and sank my teeth into his neck, drinking savagely. Only then did they finally realize what they were dealing with and started taking this seriously. At least as serious as one could while they were far outmatched. Half turned to run, but I wasn’t going to let them off so easily.

  Energy surged inside me and the blood started pumping through my veins. It was a long time since I drained anyone, so I needed a moment to focus and figure out where to release the rage. I lunged at the fleeing soldiers, my right arm slashing through the unarmored bodies of the support troops and smashed what was left of their formation. The poor fools ran in all directions, screaming for their lives.

  “Run, bastards! It’s your lucky day!” I yelled as the thirty or so survivors of the carnage scattered in all directions and fled into the woods. They no longer posed a threat and wouldn’t from what I could see. The poor fools lost all will to fight.

  A familiar feeling washed over me as the blood I drank finally reached its apex, turning me into an uncontrollable beast. Human blood had many side-effects like bloodlust and rage, while Elven didn’t have any. I would make sure they paid for everything they did to my people, and especially for forcing me to drink after such a long time.

  I darted straight for the wall where a heap of Crozan’s men lay dead or dying, though they had managed to partially damage the gate. Arrows from overhead struck clumps of infantry as they tried to rally against me. Their efforts to keep me from relieving pressure on the gate were just that, an effort. The shots from my own men weren’t quick, but every shot was a kill.

  Lost in my rage, I started cleaving left and right, slashing through whoever came nearest while blocking clumsy attacks with my shield. The shield. What an idiot I was. I’d forgotten the special function Harlan had built into it for me. Turning a small lever on the inside mount, two thirty-inch scythe blades extended from the rim of the thing.

  My left arm became as deadly as my right, blocking and slicing through my enemies’ necks and raking down their limbs as they came at me.

  Scores of infantries, bearing sword or spear, closed in on the gate and my position after seeing their comrades die. Another group picked up bows and arrows from the dead archers. I laughed as more than half didn’t appear to know how to even hold a bow correctly, much less shoot an arrow accurate enough to hit me. They could do little harm, so I ignored them in favor of a bigger threat: a group of men hacking at the gates’ right side.

  “Form a wall around me and don’t let him get past us!” a strong, commanding voice snapped. The man seemed familiar, at least from how he sounded while yelling. He could be heard easily above the thunder of battle, the clash of metal on metal, and the hissing and crackling of burning wood. The bald man was large, easily a head
taller than me as he wielded a large battle-ax and stood at the gate. His powerful arms swung the weapon with ease, even when hacking away at the wooden frame. He had made good progress from what I could see, three of the logs holding up the frame were already chopped through. Even more surprising were the five arrows sticking out from his back and neck, but they seemed to have no impact at all on the warrior.

  I chuckled, walked up to him, and stopped ten feet away. “Hey, porcupine!” I laughed. The fiend turned to face me, a wicked grin on his face.

  “Lord Raziel! What a pleasant surprise!” the man said as he walked towards me. “Uncle didn't tell me I would get the chance to take your head.”

  “Oh? You think you’re stronger than your uncle?”

  “Hah! You have no idea how strong I’ve become over the last years! I can easily take any of your so-called elites!”

  I snorted and spat in his face.

  “Being able to take them on means shit. They’re Human, and I’m a Royal Vampire. But pray tell, where is that son of a bitch? Where is Crozan?”

  “Defeat me and go look for yourself. He should be having the time of his life right about now!” he laughed and stormed right at me.

  I slid under the downward slash of his massive ax and sliced my sword upwards, cutting straight through his left forearm. The ax fell through its full arc to dig deep into his right foot, splitting it like a snake's tongue.

  “Bastard! Fuck you, Raziel!” he bellowed, trying to pull the ax out of his foot with his remaining arm, as blood gushed from the wound. Even though it wouldn’t kill him right away as a half-Vampire, it still hurt like a mother fucker.

  “Where is he?” I yelled again, pressing the tip of my sword to his neck.

  “With your bitch! He’s fucking her to dea—.”

  That’s as far as I let him go. I shoved my blade through his throat, exiting somewhere beneath his neck. His one good arm grabbed the blade, but a slight jerk set it free and cut all his fingers clean off.