Blood Of The Righteous

by J. E. Sandoval

  A battle cry from their father answered his question. Alexander rushed into the room with his sword unsheathed, followed by David. Lord Ki Kalendeen was fighting three undead guards and a walking skeleton. With a quick, skillful slice, the former general disemboweled one of the guards and turned his attention to the skeletal warrior. David did not have time to react to the spilled innards of the former guard, as one of the others was upon him a heartbeat later. The undead guard swung its sword downward, trying to cleave him down the middle. David quickly sidestepped the blow and ran his short sword through the guard's side. His opponent quickly recovered, and David's blade wrenched free. The guard swung again and brought the sword back with a backhanded strike, aimed at David's neck. David skillfully dodged the attack again and struck at the guard's arm on his recoil. The blade made contact and three fingers of the undead beast's sword hand were severed at the knuckle. David quickly struck the left knee of his opponent, and his sword jarred as it struck bone. The creature crumpled to its unwounded knee and David darted to the side. He saw a quick flash of silver as Alexander's sword struck its mark, severing the creature's head. The body fell lifelessly to the ground.

  Exhilaration coursed through David's body as he stared at the crumpled mess of flesh that had been his opponent. Although Alexander had struck the final blow, he had been winning a fight for what seemed to be the first time in his life. Looking up, he saw his father fighting the remains of the skeleton. It was missing an arm, several ribs, and its head, all of which were writhing on the floor. Alexander joined his father in the battle and within minutes, the undead warrior was reduced to a pile of severed bones, all moving with a life of their own. They both slumped against the wall, exhausted by the ordeal. Despite their obvious skill in battle, the skeleton had refused to die and had taken its toll on their stamina.

  Alexander was the first to recover, speaking between panting breaths. "We had better … move on. The … entire castle … probably heard us."

  Lord Ki Kalendeen nodded in agreement. David ran over to him and offered to help him back to his feet, but his father managed to stand of his own accord, using his sword to prop him up. The wound on his left arm started to bleed again. Both David and Alexander stood silently as they watched their father try to overcome the combination of exhaustion and pain.

  From the hall came the sound of quick footsteps. All three men looked at each other with a look of worried anticipation as the footsteps came closer.

  "Undead footsteps are usually slower. It must be another survivor," said Lord Ki Kalendeen. "David, go see who it is, but unless you know them, don't let yourself be seen. It could be the necromancer."

  "Yes, father." David quickly darted to the door and peeked around the corner. He breathed a sigh of relief as the seven-foot tall massive frame of General Sagaroth came into view. David rushed out to meet him.

  "General! Over here!"

  Sagaroth smiled and quickened his pace. "David, I'm surprised to find you still alive. Where's your mother?"

  David closed his eyes and hung his head. "She's dead, General." He looked up and noticed Sagaroth's hand clenched into a fist, shaking with anger. "Have you found any other survivors, sir?"

  "No, David. I think we are the last." Sagaroth placed his left hand on David's shoulder, grabbing hold of his cloak. With his right hand, he reached behind his back.

  "Lord General, my father and brother are still alive. We are going to try and get to Lystra and bring back an entire army!"

  Sagaroth let go of David's cloak and nonchalantly removed his hand from behind him. "Oh. In that case, we had better join them."

  David straightened out his cloak and tunic as they walked down the hall. Why had Sagaroth grabbed him so hard? And what was he reaching for behind his back? He began to feel a bit uneasy. Something was wrong. He was about to questions the General when his brother and father stepped out into the hall.

  “General Sagaroth! I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” said Lord Ki Kalendeen. “How did you manage to avoid the undead and the necromancer?”

  The tips of Sagaroth’s mustache turned upwards as he smiled. “I’m no stranger to combat, Ki Kalendeen. I’ve survived in far worse situations than this. Although, this battle has cost me every last one of my men.”

  Lord Ki Kalendeen nodded while staring at the large general thoughtfully. “My condolences regarding your men. Please also deliver them to their families when you return to Aragil. But that is for another time. There is safety in numbers, General. Please, come with us. We are leaving the castle.”

  “Of course. After you, sir.”

  The four men started down the hallway towards the western end of the castle. Alexander and David took the lead, with their father close behind them, and Sagaroth bringing up the rear. David stalked ahead a bit, listening for sounds of movement and watching the shadows carefully in case of another surprise attack. The tension was mounting again, as his stomach tied itself in knots. They continued walking down the hall, the only sound being their footfalls against the stone floor.

  David glanced back to make sure he wasn’t outdistancing the party too greatly. He was relieved to see they were only five legs behind. His relief suddenly turned into terror as he saw General Sagaroth reach behind him and pull out a long, curved dagger. He tried to yell a warning, but his throat produced no sound. Time seemed to slow and all he could do was watch in horror as Sagaroth plunged the dagger into his father’s back. Lord Ki Kalendeen let out a gasp as he dropped to his knees, then fell forward, producing a loud smack as his forehead hit the stone floor.

  Alexander looked in disbelief at the still figure of his father, the knife still imbedded in his back. He drew his sword, no emotions evident on his face. “You traitorous, pus-sucking bastard!”

  General Sagaroth also drew his sword. Its hilt turned to bone and glowed with a blood-red light. Evil emanated from the blade as the glow became stronger. David felt his knees go weak as he was bathed in the red light, the stench of burning sulfur filling his nostrils. The vileness of the scent and the waves of pure, unrestrained evil permeated his soul, making his flesh feel as if it wanted to drop from his bones in large, bloody chunks. Sagaroth sneered as he stepped over Lord Ki Kalendeen, pointing the sword at Alexander.

  David drew his sword and moved towards Sagaroth’s side, dropping the pack he had been carrying. Alexander yelled without taking his eyes off of his opponent. “Run, David! RUN!!!”

  Alexander lunged forward with a precise slash aimed at the General’s chest. Sagaroth effortlessly parried, slicing off the blade of Alexander's sword halfway to the hilt. With a quick, fluid motion, he thrust the blade through Alexander’s heart, puncturing his breastplate as if it was not even there. He pulled the blade free and Alexander fell to the ground. He quickly slashed at David, who tried to block the blow. The hellblade sliced through David’s sword, cleaving the blade off at the hilt. David rolled to the side, putting distance between himself and Sagaroth. Out of desperation, he threw the hilt of his sword at Sagaroth’s head, but the blade missed its mark, sailing past and clattering on the floor some distance away. Sagaroth took one step towards him, and David turned and ran down the hallway as fast as his long young legs would carry him. He heard Sagaroth cursing him as the large general tried to keep up, slowed down by his great mass and the extra weight of his full battle armor.

  David was able to tell that he was outdistancing Sagaroth by the reduction in volume of the clang of armored feet against stone, the steady stream of curses that continually flooded his ears. The smell of burnt food assaulted his nostrils as he sped past the kitchen door. He nimbly rounded the corner and came to a halt. He only had seconds. To his right, a door to the servants’ quarters hung open. To his left was a dark supply closet. He quickly reached over and slammed the door to the servants’ quarters, creating a much louder noise than necessary. He then jumped into the closet, allowing th
e darkness to envelop him, concealing him from his pursuer.

  Sagaroth rounded the corner, still shouting frustrated curses. He turned to the servants’ quarters door and kicked it in with one quick blow. “You shall not escape me that easily, you little ferret!” Sagaroth disappeared from David’s view as he turned over pallets and sliced through chests with his hellish sword.

  Quietly, David emerged from the dark closet. His heart was pounding so hard, he thought it would jump out of his chest. Fear kept his rage and sorrow at bay as he slithered down the hallway, back the way he came. He slipped into the kitchen and quietly closed the door, placing the wooden locking bar across it. The smell of burnt meat and bread emanated from the large brick ovens, filling the room with a light smoke. David tried to suppress a fit of coughing. He picked up a cleaning cloth and dunked it into a water barrel, then tied it behind his head, covering his nose and mouth. He took a deep, filtered breath as his racing heart slowed to normal.

  He was startled by the sound of the pantry door opening. A blond-haired boy, not much older than he, looked at him with hollow, expressionless eyes. A blood-stained slash across his chest told David that he was facing yet another of the walking dead. The creature grabbed a kitchen knife and moved towards him. David fumbled for his flask, which was tucked securely in his belt. He opened the lid and splashed the Holy Water in the undead monster’s face. The creature let out a guttural hiss as the skin on its face began to blister and char. It dropped its knife and raised its hands. David threw the remaining Holy Water at the boy. It dropped to the ground and convulsed violently, smoke rising from its burning flesh. Soon, it lay still. David moved the burnt hands of the creature from its face, which was charred beyond recognition.

  A plan formed in his mind. He quickly pulled off his cloak and tunic, also removing the shirt from the lifeless corpse. He slipped the blood stained shirt on and struggled to place his tunic and cloak on the dead boy’s body. His breath became short as he heard the clang of armored footsteps coming down the hall towards him.

  David realized there was a shortcoming to his plan. The Holy Water had burnt the boy’s face, but there was no logical explanation for the cause of the burns. He quickly looked around the room, and he found the answer. He grabbed another cleaning cloth from a nearby table, and then ran over to the hearth. He gingerly removed a pot of hot chicken fat hanging over the dying fire. Carrying the searing hot grease to the body, he poured the contents of the small cauldron on the face, hands, and chest of the boy. The melted fat splattered and spit as it touched moist flesh.

  A steady pounding on the door echoed through the kitchen. David set the pot on the ground quietly then darted into the pantry. He closed the door and was encompassed by darkness, the only light streaming in through a knothole in the door. He waited. There was the sound of wood splintering as the door to the kitchen gave way.

  David squatted down and peered through the knothole. Through the growing layers of smoke, he saw Sagaroth standing over the dead servant boy’s body. The evil man had a satisfied smile on his face. His expression turned to one of puzzlement and he began to quickly search the kitchen. The large General began walking towards the pantry. David’s heart felt like it stopped. He quietly reached into his boot, unsheathing the dagger his father had given him. He crouched down, ready to strike the second the door opened.

  An unfamiliar voice came from the kitchen. “Ah, General Sagaroth. There you are.”

  David heard Sagaroth’s footfalls grow more distant. He relaxed and peeked through the knothole. The other man who had spoken was dressed in a brown robe. David recognized him as the necromancer from outside the chapel. He was a very nondescript man, brown hair, brown eyes, and of average weight and height. Sagaroth walked over to the man and, removing his armored gauntlet, punched him full strength in the chin. The necromancer dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  “Damn you, Dameus! I told you Arianna Ki Kalendeen was not to be harmed!” bellowed Sagaroth. He pulled the dazed necromancer to his feet and shook him violently. "I should run you through for this!"

  Dameus came to his senses and spat two teeth from his bleeding mouth. "I'm sorry that she was killed, Sagaroth, but undead are not exactly known for their subtlety!"

  Sagaroth's eyes widened and he threw the smaller man across the room. Dameus landed hard against the far stone wall and dropped to the ground. He quickly stood up as Sagaroth marched towards him. He held out his hand, and a yellow light shot forth, enveloping the advancing general, who froze in mid-step, anger plastered across his red face.

  "Damn you, Sagaroth! You don't know your own strength! That damn well hurt!" yelled the necromancer. "Now stop your pointless attacks upon me! I'm sorry that the Ki Kalendeen woman is dead, but there is nothing anyone can do about it." The light dimmed and Sagaroth stumbled as he tried to regain his balance.

  "When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed!" He removed the hell blade from its sheath. Dameus took a step backwards. "And attacks on superior officers are met with death. Kadeus said I was in charge of this operation and you are to do as I say. You seem to keep forgetting this point. Next time, I shall kill you." He placed the sword back in its sheath.

  "I acknowledge your leadership, General, but do not provoke me by drawing my blood again." Dameus rolled his tongue around in his mouth, checking for more loose teeth. "It would appear our mission is a success."

  Sagaroth took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Dameus pointed towards the young body lying on the ground in congealing chicken fat. "Is this the youngest Ki Kalendeen boy?"

  Sagaroth nodded. "Yes. I don't know where the undead is who killed him."

  Dameus picked up the cloth David had used to carry the chicken fat and wiped the blood from his mouth. He looked at the bloody rag and shook his head. "My perfect teeth," he sighed. His attention went back to the large general. "It's around somewhere, probably in the meat cellar looking for rats. I'm going to dispel the lesser undead soon. It should be quite a mystery to whoever first arrives at the castle, finding only servants, guards, and wedding guest bodies."

  "What about the skeletons?"

  "I have plans for them, the two that are left, anyway.”

  The two men walked out of the kitchen. "You know, General, Lord Ki Kalendeen is still clinging to life. I'm sure he would go to the grave a happy man knowing that his sons will be waiting for him."

  Sagaroth's laugh could be heard from the hall. The voices faded into the distance. David sat still, terrified to even take a breath, for fear he would be heard. He forced himself to count to one hundred before he even moved. Standing up, he gently opened the pantry door and darted back into the kitchen. He stepped over the body and glanced quickly down the hall. It was empty, save the bodies of his father and brother. He made his way down the hall to them.

  Tears filled his eyes at the sight that lay before him. He knelt down beside his brother's body, which lay face down on the cold stone floor, and began to weep deeply. He sat there, knees soaking in cooling blood, and cried. The loss of his brother and father were too much to bear.

  A feeble cough startled him and he jumped to his feet, ready to run. No one was there. He heard another cough and realized it had come from his father, who was lying on his side, face covered with his cloak. He quickly darted over to him and removed the blood-stained cloak from the dying lord's face. "Father?" he said.

  Lord Ki Kalendeen weakly opened his eyes and looked up at David. A relieved smile crossed his face and he began cry. His mouth made a motion as if to speak but he started to cough again.

  David sat down next to him. "Father, don't talk. I'll take you to town and find a healer."

  Lord Ki Kalendeen shook his head. He reached up and grabbed David's soot-stained golden hair, pulling his youngest son close to him. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "You wily little trickster. Praise be to God on high."

&nb
sp; "Father, we have to go."

  "David… an invasion. The forces of Aragil. You must go to New Portsmouth. Find a ship."

  David pulled back in surprise. "New Portsmouth? Father, why do you want me to go to New Portsmouth?"

  Lord Ki Kalendeen motioned for David to come closer. "Find a ship, go to Port Cirill. Take a riverboat to…" A spasm rocked his body and he winced in pain.

  "To Avonshire?"

  The dying lord nodded. "David," he said. "Remember what I taught you.” He stroked David’s hair and they both wept. “Son… My beloved son. David, always walk in the light." Coughing one more time, he opened his eyes wide. A faint smile came to him as he reached out in front of him, past David. “The light….” His breathing stopped, his extended arm dropped to the ground, and the once great general of the Elgannan armies lay still.

  David reached over and closed his father's eyes. Emptiness filled his being, but he cried no longer. The feelings of sorrow had been replaced by a bitter blend of fear and hatred.

  David looked around. The castle grew darker as the sun began to set. Night would be upon him soon, and he had no intention of staying the night in his desecrated home. He picked up Alexander's pack, which he had discarded earlier, and stood up, slinging it over his shoulder. The weight of its contents combined with his exhaustion and caused him to stumble. The coins jingled loudly in the bottom of the heavy pack. A cool breeze blew through the hall, sending a shiver across his skin.

  He began to run toward the rear of the castle. His footsteps and heavy breaths echoed through the empty corridors. The castle felt still and empty, as did his soul. Everything his life had been was now gone, ripped away from him. He felt so alone.