by Toni Cox
This group waiting for their signal to strike within this region, waited for reinforcements as well. Their time frame was, as yet, unknown to Blaid. The groups on the other side of the lake had already received most of their reinforcements, but were awaiting the arrival of the Vampyres’ main army. Even that was still some time away, as far as he could tell.
What worried him most was the detailed plan of attack the Vampyres had devised. Although there were some holes in the information he had been able to gather, it was clear that the Vampyres planned to attack on multiple fronts. The last war had been centred around Greystone, with the Vampyre army coming through in three consecutive waves. This time, they had been slowly amassing their numbers within Grildor for Moons in advance and, once the main army came through the Gate, the smaller forces would attack from the rear.
There was also talk of a new weapon, as well as a new breed of soldier. Werewolves were to be used again, but one of the Generals had expressed concern about the number of animals that were able to travel. Blaid assumed he was talking about bringing the Werewolves through the gate. Transporting animals was impossible … unless they had the ability to travel on their own. In his mind, he reassessed the creatures he had hunted. They were cunning and fierce and often managed to elude him, but they had never tried to communicate, so he was unaware of their mental capabilities. To the eye, they simply looked like brute beasts and it was easy to assume they were just dumb creatures.
He had to get back to Shadow Hall and get word to Lord Longshadow. He had been here too long already, but he could not let this group of Vampyres and traitors live and carry out their missions. They had to be eliminated.
The group was well armed and always alert. It had so far taken all his skill not to be discovered. To attack alone was foolish, but he felt a rage building within him that he struggled to control. To let them live might mean death to the people of the Crystal Mountains, to try to kill them might mean his own death. The choice was clear.
He waited until nightfall. The Vampyres didn’t sleep, but often rested when they were not on duty. His first priority was to take out the night guards around the camp. He decided he would not be able to sneak up on all of them and kill them silently while in his wolf form. He had memorized their routine positions and now, having acquired a knife from one of the supply tents, he summoned his shadow travel.
He landed precisely behind his first victim and without hesitation cut his throat. The Vampyre slid silently to the ground. Then he concentrated on the next position. As he materialized again, he saw that this guard had wandered off to the right and he had to run up from behind to avoid detection and the Vampyre raising the alarm. Again, his knife spilled the life blood of the Vampyre and he eased him down. They would eventually be discovered, but by then it would be too late.
His next position held two guards, he knew, but it did not deter him. They only had a brief moment of surprise as the black smoke formed between them and then his knife had already done its work. One of them fell to the ground, the other toppled off the cliff.
The next two were Elves and, although he did not hesitate, he felt the bile rise to his throat at having to kill his own. He vented his frustration on his next four victims and then stood, barely breathing harder, on one of the vantage points overlooking the camp.
He had successfully managed to kill all the guards on the high cliffs around the camp without arousing suspicion. He knew there were more guards closer to the bridge, but they would not interfere with the work he had to do here.
Down in the camp nothing had changed. Most of them sat around their fires, talking, drinking, playing their strange stone games. Five of them patrolled the perimeter of the camp and it was those he targeted next. He managed to kill three of them without any noise before the fourth yelled out in surprise as Blaid slit his companion’s throat.
Quickly he silenced him with a well-placed cut, but it was too late; the Vampyres were now aware of his presence. Immediately the warning went through the camp. Everyone drew their weapons and converged on where he stood. Blaid only had a moment to size up the situation before they were upon him.
Armed with only his small knife, even he was no match for what he now faced. Shadow travelling between them he managed to kill another few, before he himself received his first cut. Blood streamed down his right arm and, before he managed to vanish into smoke again, he got stabbed in the side by a spear.
He screamed pain and rage and without thinking transformed into the wolf. With his shaggy black fur flying and his large teeth bared, he ripped into the nearest Vampyre. He was vaguely aware of some of the Elves stepping away as they realised what he was, but they soon rejoined the fight.
Now it was tooth and claw against bare metal. They came at him with swords and spears, arrows, and axes. The world dissolved into twirling red mist as his blood sprayed in all directions. He tasted the Vampyres’ rancid flesh and the sweet blood of the Elves and, in that moment, it was all the same to him. It was not about survival, but simply about how many of them he could take with him into death. He knew not for how long he fought or how many he killed; there always seemed to be another to take the place of the one who came before him.
The pain of his injuries dulled his senses and he lashed out blindly towards the end. Finally, he felt pain no longer and his vision dimmed as the loss of blood made it impossible for him to remain on his feet. His legs gave way beneath him and the last thing he saw before the darkness took him was a Vampyre running towards him with a sword aimed at his heart.
Maia staggered as she landed within the circle of black stones. The first thing she noticed was the lack of air. She gasped as she tried to hold on to the bubble of air that surrounded her and protected her with invisibility. She cursed herself for not having accounted for this. She had learned that the composition of air on Naylera was different from Elveron. There was less oxygen, more carbon dioxide and some other gasses her body was unaccustomed to. She stood there for what seemed like ages as she struggled to maintain, not only her invisibility, but also her composure.
All around her there was activity. It seemed that the Vampyres had erected some kind of shelter over the stones and it was acting as a base from which they operated. At first, she was afraid that they would noticed her arrival, but as she stood there, she realised that others were arriving too. Three other Vampyres arrived within minutes of her arrival, so she had aroused no suspicion. She contemplated this for a short while, wondering where these Vampyres were coming from, but then pushed the thought to the back of her mind; she had a job to do.
She waited a short while longer before she dared to move. The inner circle was cleared for the arrivals, but within the second circle were crates with weapons, boxes of armour and even some elven clothes. Only one side had remained clear of all items and Maia assumed that that was where the army was supposed to file through the stones to travel to Elveron.
The outer circle was furnished in much the same way; caches of weapons, armour and clothing. Vampyres were inventorying the crates and making notes. Carefully she stepped past them and finally reached the canvas wall of the immense shelter erected over the stones. She waited by the entrance until a Vampyre lifted the flap to exit. Ducking down low she followed him out unnoticed.
Outside, the air was worse. The air around her wavered dangerously before she managed to get it under control again. She had not realised how bad the air on Naylera was. Vampyres did not need to breathe often, needing little oxygen to survive. It must have been an adaptation in their development due to the nature of their planet.
Naylera was the planet of volcanoes; it was home to more than ten times the number of volcanoes than on any other planet. Frequent eruptions made at least half the planet uninhabitable and had contributed to the composition of the gases in the air.
Nevertheless, the Vampyres had once been a thriving people. Trade between Naylera and the other planets used to flourish, but it was a long time ago. Dwindling resources must
have been the trigger that had driven the Vampyres to their now violent lifestyles. Vampyres had always had a taste for blood but, many thousands of years ago, it had been more of a ritualistic habit and not for sustenance. Sometime during the last millennium this changed and they became complete carnivores. Maia shuddered at the thought of what these creatures ate.
Standing outside the tent over the stones and in the middle of their military activity, she looked around and realised they were anything but animals. There was order and a strict hierarchy seemed to be in place. Although she did not understand their language well, the tone with which higher ranking members were addressed left no doubt as to their status. Orders were given and followed with alacrity.
Tentatively she stepped away from the tent. The activity around her frightened her and she used all her will power to remain calm; if she were to lose concentration, she would be discovered. She had seen what they did to Somas and had no intention of ending up like him.
The ground beneath her feet was red; rocks and sand without any vegetation. It could have been from the constant activity around the gate but she knew that nothing could grow in this rocky soil even if there was no one here to trample it. Besides the faint glow of the Vampyres’ Eläm and the somewhat stronger glow of the Werewolves around her, she did not pick up any Life-Forces for miles in either direction.
Carefully she wound her way between the crates and equipment scattered around the stones. She noticed another tent-like structure about half a mile away and hoped it would be something like a base for the Generals to conduct their planning.
The terrain here was much the same as on Elveron; gently rolling hills with mountains in the distance, but the vista could not have been more different. There was a faint red glow that saturated everything and even the mountains were tinged in red. Smoke on the horizon and an awful grey sky hid the sun so well she did not know what time of day it was.
Time on Naylera moved much the same as on Elveron. If she spent three days here, she’d be gone from Elveron for roughly two days. So it mattered little what time it was right now, but she somehow felt adrift not being aware of the time of day. She took a steadying breath and carried on.
At one point, she passed a group of tethered Werewolves. They were of the larger, stronger kind and looked well cared for. They rested with their muzzles on their outstretched paws, but as she walked by all five of them lifted their heads and lifted their noses in her direction. She felt their eyes follow her as she walked by, but none rose to challenge her.
Finally, she reached the tent. There was little activity around here and she wondered if she had guessed right. She waited for a short while, but when no one seemed to be entering or leaving the tent, she eventually lifted the tent flap and quickly slipped in. The tent was completely deserted. In the centre stood a large table with papers on it and the rest of the tent was packed full with crates and other items. She was about to leave again when something made her approach the table.
She inhaled a sharp breath and almost coughed as she accidentally sucked in some of Naylera’s air when she beheld the map spread open on the table. It was a large map, showing not only Grildor, but its neighbouring countries as well. Clearly marked on this map was Greystone, as well as all the larger cities of Grildor. Certain spots along the Trade Route had been marked with large X’s and strange symbols decorated other areas within some mountains and forests. There were too many for her to remember them all, but the one just behind Shadow Peak made her skin crawl.
Quickly she rifled through the other papers on the desk, hoping to unearth some plan of attack or other information, but the only things she found were more maps. Some detailed maps of the cities, others general maps of the northern hemisphere of Elveron. Maia wondered where the Vampyres had obtained these maps. To steal one map was entirely possible, but there was a whole collection of important maps on this table and she suspected someone had given these to the Vampyres. The thought that there was, indeed, a traitor among the Elves sickened her.
Carefully she peeked through the flap of the tent. She waited for a lone Vampyre to pass and then quickly slipped through. Once outside she surveyed the area. The base of operation the Vampyres had erected around the Gate was fairly large; about a square mile. But, besides the tent she had just been in and the larger one that had been erected over the stones, the only items she could see in either direction were crates of equipment, provisions, and strange machines of war. She took careful notice of these so she could explain them to her father when she got back.
She stood there a while longer, monitoring the Vampyres’ movements. Most were busy carrying boxes or inventorying items, but some were going to and fro on what seemed to be a well-trodden path just to the east of where she stood. She decided to follow it.
Painfully aware that she was walking in the company of Vampyres, she concentrated hard on maintaining her invisibility. The Vampyres were completely unaware of her presence and only the odd Werewolf would briefly glance in her direction before losing interest again.
After about ten miles, a full military camp came into sight. The sheer vastness of it took her breath away. Thousands of tents, set up in neat rows, surrounded what was clearly the centre of operations; a large, solid structure, build out of red brick. This place was well guarded. A perimeter fence made of what looked like bone and wire surrounded the entire complex and guards were patrolling at regular intervals. The path she was on led to what she thought was the main entrance; a large gate where guards checked credentials of everyone that passed through it.
The path also curved around the complex in either direction and soon disappeared into the distance. She wondered if she should chance going through this main entrance or if there were smaller, less guarded options further along the perimeter fence.
By now she had been here a couple of hours and time was of the essence. She did not know how far away the next gate would be; if there was one at all. She made the decision to use the main entrance.
Carefully she approached. The guards here were of the smaller kind of Vampyres, but they were alert and each had a Werewolf companion. Maia waited for a group of three Vampyres to approach the gate. The guards immediately took their credentials, while the Werewolves investigated with their noses. Two were finished and were ushered through the gate. Maia sneaked closer to the remaining Vampyre. One of the Werewolves growled and his guard began to question the Vampyre immediately. Soon they were surrounded by three guards with their Werewolves and not only were the Werewolves growling, but the guards were shouting and the unfortunate Vampyre was trying his best to explain why the Werewolves were reacting to him this way.
Sensing that this was not going to end well, Maia concentrated harder on hiding not only her Eläm, but also her scent. It proved difficult and by the time she had managed it, the guards were ready to arrest the suspect Vampyre. Then, the Werewolves suddenly backed down and, after another moment, the tension eased. The guards spoke another couple of words to the Vampyre Maia used as her shield, but then let him pass through the gate.
She walked quickly away from the gate and only once it was out of sight did she slow down and then lean against a large crate made from that strange material Maia had seen the Vampyres use on their armour. She knew it was not very fire proof, but it was otherwise strong and durable. As she looked around, she noticed at least twenty of the crates were stacked here. There were tiny slits between the planks, but it was too dark inside to see what they contained. She did not rest there for long; the smell coming from the crate made her nauseous. She had a bad feeling and did not want to know what they contained.
She walked among the bustling army camp for what seemed like hours. She noticed how many of the thousands of tents were unoccupied, which led her to believe that the main force of the army had not arrived yet. But the camp was ready to receive them and they were expecting them soon. There were Generals and soldiers everywhere and her main problem was not being sniffed out by the Werewolves, but the
danger of being bumped into. The closer she came to the brick compound, the busier it became.
Weaving her way between Vampyres on errands, guards on duty and Generals walking their hounds, Maia finally reached the red building. Up close, the structure was a lot bigger than she had thought; at least twice the size of the Hall of the Guardians. The huge doors were made entirely of bones and, although the sight sickened her, she had to admire the artist who put it together. The bones were arranged in such intricate patterns and placed with such care that the final pictures were, not only clearly visible, but had depth and emotion. The images depicted scenes of disaster, famine, war and struggle, and Maia finally understood fully why the Vampyres wanted Elveron. Naylera was dying and the Vampyres needed a new home to call their own.
Feeling saddened, she waited until the doors opened and then slipped through to the interior. Inside was a warren of passages and she was at first at a loss of where to go. The Vampyres hurrying left and right did not give any indication of who they were or where they were going and she was about to follow a random General, when she noticed a small sign along the far wall. Her Nayleran was sketchy at best, only having studied it for a short period when she was younger, but the sign clearly pointed to the War Council.
Carefully taking a breath, she stepped along the right hallway. It was strangely still within the building and even the footfalls of the Vampyres were muffled by the floorboards of the building. They were made from the same black material as the crates, but were softer, almost springy, underfoot. Although ugly, Maia found it pleasant to walk on.
