by Jackson Lear
“I’d like to know more about his reputation. General Kasera has a history up here. Lavarta doesn’t. The Kaseras and Lavartas arranged for Alysia and the commander to wed so there must be some similarity in how the parents think and respond to their allies being under threat. Basically, when we reach Orkust will Lavarta be there or will we be on our own?”
“You spent months with him training his troops.”
“I know what he would do for his troops. I don’t know what he would do for us, especially if he’s trying to get his wife to safety.”
“If he’s anything like General Kasera, he’ll be there,” said Jarmella.
Another blast of salt water rained across us.
“You don’t look very optimistic,” said Jarmella.
“Well, ever since we arrived things have been going very wrong for us and for everyone we know.”
Jarmella glanced behind. “Optimism or not, it won’t really matter where the commander is if that fleet catches up to us before we land.”
Hilgar bounded across the top of the longboat, snuffing out the lanterns. “Everyone shhh.”
We rowed for an hour, watching Draegor’s longboats slowly gain on us. When we shifted in one direction the longboats behind us blasted their horns and corrected their course as well. When we shifted back they blasted us again and maintained their pursuit.
Hilgar grumbled. “Vampire watching us.”
The first soldier threw up from exertion. That caused another to throw up, another to drop to his ass with bleeding palms and a delirious sweat.
Hilgar crept through the crew, whispering a command. His people scrambled to one side, all working in unison to realign the sail and rudder. Our course shifted southwards.
I asked Yahnson, “Where’s Orkust?”
He pointed south east. “Ten miles that way, but we can’t get there by sailing into the wind. In one mile we go north east. Then south. Then north east again.”
“What if the fleet use their oars to sail into the wind and reach Orkust before we get there?”
“Then a lot of us will die.”
We waited for a horn to follow us. Instead, the midnight fog covered us completely. We lost sight of their lanterns, of their sails and crew, but they weren’t far behind. Worse still they were down-wind of us with vampires on board who could track our scent like blood hounds.
A chill swept over me, one I hadn’t felt since wondering if we were about to be ambushed back in Orkust.
“SHIP!” shrieked Jarmella, pointing to our left.
The fog broke. A longboat was upon us. Ten yards and closing, their oars at full speed, their ship at a heavy list, their sail larger than ours.
Jarmella shouted, “Archers! Up here now!”
“We’re being boarded!” I added.
Our ship lurched from the sudden loss in speed as every single member of the vanguard raced up to the deck, drawing their weapons and trying to find their best position of attack. The enemy ship collided into the side of our rear, spinning us around and driving our right hand side towards a full capsize.
The first creature leapt forward, blood thirsty and in a full frenzy, holding a curved short sword in each hand. Jarmella blasted him, saving half a dozen of our lives as the vampire crashed into the water. The rest of the boarders were luckier. Humans with axes, leaping from their rails onto our deck, swinging and slicing and barreling through the line of infantrymen.
The first raider dropped in surprise with an arrow to his face. The rest charged forward, swarming us quickly as archer after archer loosed their arrows, striking flesh, weapons, padded armor, the ship, and air behind us.
One of Draegor’s people fired off a spell, skittering Odalis across the deck and dropping him through the gap to the oars below. Another blasted Volbrig at the same time as he fired one at his target.
Axes crashed into swords and shields, swords checked one attack after another, and the first streak of blood arced across us all. Jarmella drove her sword into the falling body of one raider. Kilmur rammed his sword through the elbow of an attacker about to skewer Jarmella. Ewen took a slice to his shoulder and a stab to his gut. Spell upon spell blasted one raider overboard, one of us overboard, with half a dozen of the vanguard clinging to the side of the ship as the crew abandoned their positions and raced upstairs, axes swinging wildly as the first tinge of blue crept broke across the horizon.
Odeh scorched the enemy ship. Two of Hilgar’s crewmates lobbed a jug of oil, bursting Draegor’s ship into flames.
Ithka screamed from the water, a jagged frenzy as the vampire dug into his throat, slashed his face, and drank him dry. Ander roared in blistering rage. Leapt. And with his ax high above his head and arcing down he slammed the tip of the blade into the vampire’s skull, cleaving down to the creature’s nose and driving him under water. Ander wrestled the kid back to safety. Hands reached out. Pulled the survivors back up.
We broke free, our ship bobbing listlessly in the water as the rest of Draegor’s fleet closed in upon us.
“Everyone to the oars!” I shouted.
We threw ourselves down below, sweat stinging our eyes, blood dripping across our faces, the taste of sticky saliva and heaving breaths as we fought to keep moving as our bodies resisted. We rowed until our arms fell off. We rowed until we puked. And we rowed until the sun finally broke over the horizon.
If there was ever a god watching out for us, please let us reach Orkust in time. And please have Commander Lavarta’s cohort in place ready to blast these fuckers to oblivion.
The mages patched up everyone they could, our hearts thumping out of our chests while being stitched up, patched up, and wounds closed with elder leaves and the burning paste.
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 besid
e 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 befor
e 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.
