by Jackson Lear
Hilgar bellowed from above. Menrihk and Odalis translated. “One mile away!”
“Jarmella! Sound the horn!”
Jarmella released her grip on the oar. Hobbled upstairs and to the front of the ship. The wind was against us but there was no way around it. She sounded the horn for the Sixth Army to come rescue us. Most of the sound blew straight back at the vampires on our tail.
Silence fell.
“I don’t see anyone.”
“Sound it again!”
Another blast of our war horn.
“Nothing.”
My oar clunked a boulder in the water, reverberating violently through my hands.
Jarmella’s voice shrieked louder than I’d ever heard it before. “Brace yourselves!”
Chapter Fifty-Five
We hit the shore at full speed, colliding onto the black sand and running aground right into Orkust.
“Move!”
We were barely functioning, a marathon effort that had sapped every ounce of strength from us. We flopped over the edge of the boat, fell splat onto the wet shore with Agnarr, Loken, and the sacks of silver weighing us down, and gathered ourselves up into a run. Behind us were eleven ships at a full charge, their drums of war louder than ever before.
There was no imperial army waiting for us. I latched onto the gagged and bound Loken and set off across the sand. “Get to the village!”
The northerners exchanged a quick look, unsure of sticking with us as we fought their brethren, but equally unsure of what would happen to them if Commander Lavarta and his cohort did arrive and mistook them for our enemy.
Hilgar slapped the first of his people across the shoulder, pushing him forward. Slowly they picked up speed as we limped towards the weathered farmhouse. Together we ran, our weapons dangling in our lifeless arms.
The village ahead was as quiet as they came. The windows shuttered, doors closed, not a single soul in sight. No dogs, either. Or chickens. Absolutely nothing at all.
Loken dragged me down, digging in his heels as he refused to go on any further. I slammed my shin into his balls – no idea if that would work on a vampire but it was likely to be more effective than trying to wind someone who didn’t need to breathe.
The archers staggered forward, dropping beside each door and window of the barn, ready to breach it. The door was locked and bolted. Gaynun peered under the doorway. Winced from his wounded arm. “Nothing.”
The northerners stared at us, sweat dripping and their clothes clinging to their bodies. “Where are your friends?” gasped Yahnson.
Loken tried to fight back again. I punched him in his face and practically collapsed onto the ground from exhaustion. “Wilbur, Elgrid, Ivar, Adalyn, you search those houses there. Odalis, Gilmero, Magnus, Menrihk you check those.”
“There’s no one here,” mumbled Jarmella. “Where … where is everyone?”
One of the raiders slammed his ax into the shuttered window of the barn, breaking open a small hole and wrenching it wider still on the return. He peered inside. Odalis pushed his way forward. Shoulders dropped immediately. “Our horses are gone.”
“What?” gasped Dalo, his face shriveling with utter defeat.
The drums from the longboats were at a deafening roar. It was going to energize the raiders while draining us at the same time.
Wilbur was the first to hobble back. “I found something! Paint on one door. It’s the Sixth Army sigil!”
“Where are they?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It’s dated two days ago. The village is utterly deserted.”
“Odeh? Set fire to that hut over there right now. Lots of smoke. We want to smother the ships and send a signal to anyone nearby.” I turned to Jarmella: “How long would Lavarta keep watch for?”
“I don’t know. You can’t keep six hundred people nearby with these resources for long.”
The drums continued to thump. We had a minute until they landed. Maybe less.
“Right, everyone inside!”
Odalis broke more of the barn’s window open while Kilmur dropped to one knee and hoisted one man after the next inside, everyone flopping into a stumble as they reached the hay within. The sacks of silver went in next. Then Agnarr and Loken.
I dove in. Quick search of the barn. Two main doors for large animals. One small human-door at the far end. Four shuttered windows, one of which was now broken. Four stalls on the inside.
We dumped the sacks, covered them with hay, and all gathered together, heaving, legs shaking, on the verge of passing out.
I had once been trapped in a farm house with twenty mercenaries on my side and four vampires on the other. It did not end well. This time I had twenty exhausted soldiers, eighteen raiders, and a dozen vampires bred for war.
I pulled Adalyn, Elgrid, Wilbur, and Ivar, together, then Menrihk, Gilmero, Odalis, and Magnus, matching one mage, infantryman, cavalryman, and archer into a single unit. “These are your groupings until all four of you die. Mages? You’re going to slow the vampire down when they are in combat range. Blind them, obliterate their knees, whatever you can to slow them. Archers? Aim for their faces, human or not. Infantry and cavalry will go in for the kill, using their own magic to pin them to the ground if necessary. Simultaneous strikes. All four of you will target one opponent at a time. In here we have a choke point through the doors and windows but this is not our last stand. We’ll draw them in while trying to cut a line through these double-doors here. Once we’re outside we’re going to be swarmed. We’re going to go from one building to the next, constantly creating new choke-points as we go. Mages? You’re going to call out an identifier to help the rest of your team target the same vampire. Adalyn – your team is going to cover the left side of that window. Menrihk – the right hand side. Jarmella, Gaynun, Dalo, Otario – this door. Volbrig, Ewen, Leif, Aedalis – anything that breaks through this half of the walls, ground, or roof. Odeh, Kilmur, Arvid, Benar – this half of the walls, ground, and roof. Hilgar? Your people are going to take that double-door there. We’re going to cause untold physical damage to these things. Shred their skin, their brains – whatever it takes. The magic you’ve always been told not to do – now’s the time to use it. We’re not taking hostages, we’re in a fight to the death that we can’t possibly hope to survive unless I’m surrounded by assholes determined to live.”
I threw Loken and Agnarr to the ground, pulled the gag from Loken’s mouth and forced his head towards Agnarr’s leg. Agnarr cried out in pain and terror.
Jarmella yanked me out of the way. “What are you doing?”
“Saving our lives.”
“That’s ...”
Loken guzzled his fill, his eyes clouding over with unearthly bliss as he drank Agnarr to within an inch of his life. Agnarr howled with fright as pint after pint flowed from his leg into the vampire’s gut. Before he had drained Agnarr completely I wrenched Loken’s head away, forced the rag back into his mouth and drew my blade. His eyes flared just as he realized what was about to happen to him. In a flash of silver I skewered his arm. Loken cried out from beneath the gag, bucked and hissed. He almost broke free of his restraints as the intoxicating human blood fuelled his body with unstoppable energy.
I guzzled then held out the vampire’s wrist. “Jarmella, you’re next.”
“I ...”
“You can barely stand or see, let alone fight. Drink from the fucking vampire!” I pulled her in, taking most of the decision away from her until her lips closed around Loken’s wound. She sucked, gulped, and licked her lips as the charge of bliss flowed through her veins.
“Wilbur! You’re up.”
One by one the troops drank, draining Loken of almost every drop of blood he had, leaving him utterly unable to move, save for a delirious roll of his head. Every member of the vanguard’s eyes glazed over as a wave of euphoria took them over, their wounds knitting together and their limbs swelling with energy.
“Vampires on the ground!” called out Gaynun. “They’re
running straight for us! Longboats just behind, oars still out, about to land on the shore.”
I took my final gulp from Loken, dropped his hand to his chest, wiped my lips, and rose with a vampire’s sword in one hand and my own blade in the other. “Let’s show them what hell really is.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The drums of war fell silent. Oars lifted. The cries to brace themselves rang across the shore. One by one the longboats collided onto the black sand and thumped to a stop.
“Six vampires!” shouted Gaynun. “Wait … another has leapt onto the beach. Now an eighth!” And they were still coming.
A surge of energy swept through me, my lungs expanding, my exhaustion fading, my injuries dulled. Outside the vampires sprinted towards us, eyes blazing with unparalleled blood lust – a full blown feeding frenzy just within reach.
Two hundred northerners landed on the shore, a mix of axes, swords, and spears at the ready. They sploshed through the few inches of water and ran dead on towards us, war cries and battle rages ripping through the morning air.
The first vampire leapt. Thumped onto the roof. The next slammed his shoulder into the door closest to me. A third reached Wilbur’s window.
Adalyn fired a spell, wrenching the vampire forward with a deafening, “Now!” Magnus loosed his arrow straight into the vampire’s face. Wilbur and Elgrid drove their swords forward. The vampire ducked, his gloved hand snagging Elgrid’s sword. Yanked him forward. Elgrid was pulled off his feet, his sword skittered outside. Snap. Arm broken. Wilbur swiped about, trying to catch the vampire by any means.
Another of the fucker’s landed on the roof. Tore through the shingles with his ax.
“Benar! Arvid!”
Arrow after arrow found their way through the opening, one striking the vampire’s thigh. Another creature pried the shingles free.
Ivar loosed an arrow through the window, missing the vampire charging for him. Nocked another. Loosed. His bowstring was a blur before me.
A vampire dropped inside. Menrihk, Gilmero, Odalis, and Magnus fired a spell at the same time, the mage and archer flinging the vampire away from them, the infantryman and cavalryman pulling it closer. A gut-churning crack and snap broke the vampire, his body hovering in the air for a split second from the spell before landing in a broken mess on the hard mud floor. Gilmero and Odalis sprung forward, skewering the creature through the chest.
“Take its head off!”
Another landed, swinging wildly at Ewen and cleaved his skull. He swung again, decapitating Volbrig with blinding speed.
I swung.
Día appeared right where my blade was about to strike. I carved straight through her, not realizing it until a second later. My heart juttered. Her eyes snapped with electric shock.
The vampire swung.
My heart spasmed again at the hallucination. I checked his swing but his strength was too great. My forearm jerked back from the impact. The vampire was already on the return. I was able to arc my sword down, lunged forward, snapped my leg to the side before the vampire could slice it off.
His eyes lit up with unearthly frenzy. A sword pierced his lower back. Another ran itself all the way through his chest. A final one skewered his skull. I knocked his sword out of the way and sliced his head off.
Wilbur, Elgrid, and Adalyn dove on top of it, scooping as much of the blood into their mouths as they could. I did the same. Sheathed my blade. Threw Loken over my shoulder. “Fall back!”
Jarmella, Gaynun, Dalo, and Otario cleared a path through the fray, all of us heading towards the next farm house. Gaynun slammed his shoulder into the door, his vampire-charged energy turning him into a battering ram. The door splintered open.
The screams of combat shrieked through the air, the magical charges firing and discharging, the clang of steel against armor and bone, the molasses-thick smoke drowning us as the wind shifted course. Odeh’s shack was starting to catch fire, the roof burning but the whole thing taking too long to put to good use.
“We’re leaving! Odeh! Set fire to the barn!”
We pushed our way into the next house. Haphazardly secured it while archers kept the two hundred assholes outside at bay. Strings blurred, arrows whipped through the air. Berserkers raced forward, ignored arrows to the legs, chest, and even one guy came at us with one jutting out of his cheek.
We followed Gaynun inside. Pulled everyone else in. Held the door closed until the first crack of an ax forced us back. Soldiers jabbed whenever they could. Vampires landed on the roof, ripping it open with ease. Fifty raiders hit the side of one wall, pushing, heaving, trying to topple the whole building down. And they were succeeding.
The beams cracked, creaked, and groaned. The walls buckled and start to pitch over.
“Back back back back back!”
“EARS!” shouted Jarmella. The vanguard slammed their hands over the side of their heads. I followed suit just in time.
The entire mage division among us burst the side of the wall in a spectacular show of force, shrapnelling the raiders trying to push the wall over, causing the rest of them to fall to their knees as the wall disappeared out from under them. The vanguard and northerners alike swiped, slashed, and skewered forty men in three seconds.
Unfortunately the rest of the house was toppling down upon us. We scattered, most of us heading through the hole where the wall used to be, the rest trying their luck with the door. I tripped over dead and dying raiders, stabbed a few of the more alert ones, and staggered a dozen paces forward.
Draegor’s raiders were chasing after whoever they could, mostly Agnarr’s people. The rest were searching the barn, realizing we weren’t there, and finally seeing where the fray was taking place. The vampires chased after their victims freely, tackling northerners and scattering the injured vanguard to the side.
“Everyone regroup to me!”
I dropped Loken, thumping his body to the ground. Spun. The dozen raiders upon me didn’t realize he was a vampire until it was too late. One leapt over the lieutenant right when Loken snapped his hand out, grabbing onto the raider’s ankle and yanking him to the ground.
I swung, my sword breaking the raider’s skull.
Another tried to leap over Loken as well. Howled on his landing as Loken wrenched him back, digging his teeth into the guy’s leg and ripping him apart. The raiders redirected themselves from attacking us to avoiding the feral vampire in a frenzy.
One vampire leapt high overhead, coming straight for me, her face looking like half of it had been de-gloved back in Faersrock and badly pushed back together. I dove forward, finding one of the raiders on the edge of their haphazard line. Snagged his arm and spun him around, a decisive crack from his elbow, a yelp of pain, and his sword went spinning behind me. Brought my blade towards his face. Introduced one to the other. Used him as a shield to drive him back as the vampire lunged at me, caught the raider instead and got a headbutt to her face. I swiped at another raider, a blur faster than I expected as I took most of his right hand fingers off. Hilgar stormed forward, threw his full weight into his ax and obliterated the raider’s skull. Was immediately overwhelmed by raider after raider.
The spectral version of Día stood in front of me. “You’re going to regret letting me escape.”
The vampire knocked my blade clean from my hand. Kicked my leg out. I fell, hitting the blackened mud as I thrusted my sword to where I thought the vampire would be. Missed.
The vampire fell on top of me, her teeth piercing my neck. She was practically sucking my heart out through my throat, draining me with frightening speed.
“See?” said Día, warmly. “Now you will serve me as my prince of terror.”
The vampire broke free only when my sword caught her back. She lifted away then shuddered to a stop, instantly throwing up a pint of blood straight over my face with projectile energy, her yellow eyes awash with frenzied betrayal.
Berik yanked his sword from the back of the vampire’s skull. Heaved. Held a hand out to help
me up.
I staggered. Woozy. Loosing blood. The sapphire-poison wraps around my throat started to sizzle.
Berik smeared a brown paste from his kit along his finger. Wiped it across my open wound. Punched an elder leaf into position. Whispered. And out I went.
I regained consciousness while lying on the ground, a trickle of urine seeping through my trousers, and my vocal chords absolutely shredded.
Berik pulled his fingers out of his ears. Helped me back up. Still woozy. I checked my neck. The wound had been burned closed but at best it was just a temporary measure.
A spear-point came at me. Berik checked him as I slowly got my elbow up. Lost sight of our attacker. My neck was practically on fire and the flames were spreading through my blood – the vampire’s poison slowly paralyzing me.
Our attacker swung back, bashed me with his shield. Tried to spear me again. I grabbed on. Lunged. Missed by a mile and fell just in time. It knocked our attacker off balance and gave Berik a chance to swipe at full reach. Got him in the throat.
“Get up!” shouted Berik.
I tried. Needed Berik to help me to my feet again. I spun my new spear around and skewered someone else’s ankle, another ankle, a knee, someone’s groin, a blur of leg injuries as they fell back, hobbling, now with my vision starting to blur and gravity pulling me off balance.
A spell from one of the mages catapulted a raider overhead, him landing in a heap behind us. A clash of steel rang in every direction, howls of euphoria and agony rippled through us all no matter which side of the fight we came from.
The entire village of Orkust was ablaze. Behind us lay a forest road and rolling hills of jagged thistles, pricking shrubs, and divots that would break all of our ankles if we were forced into a run.
The vanguard had regrouped around me with Jarmella staring into my eyes. “Raike?”
“He’s not looking too good,” said Adalyn.
