The Grim Legion

by Kindred Ult

  She smiled slightly and motioned to the seat on her right; the seventh seat.

  "You're the new captain of the seventh unit. The new eighth, ninth, and tenth units have been recently formed, so they require seasoned captains to guide them and whip them into shape." Demenn could only imagine what she would do to the new eighth unit, and did not envy them their lot. She continued. "I hope that you find the seventh unit to your liking. I have spent quite awhile shaping them into a unit that will never run, disobey, or die without first killing. I'm counting on you to keep them at the level I have slaved to get them to, can I trust you?"

  "I will do my best." Demenn bowed again before walking around the table in front of the seats and taking his own place.

  Soon after he was seated, and to his great relief, the Matriarch and Patriarch entered the chamber. At their arrival, all conversations ceased, and all of the members stood as they walked to their raised seats at the front of the room. They stood in front of their seats, and then Vladimir waved his hand. All of the council members sat, and the Patriarch and Matriarch seated themselves soon after. Vladimir wasted no time in beginning the council of war.

  "Fellow council members, and also the captains," he inclined his head to the captains, who nodded back. "War is upon us. We have discovered the werewolves' lair, and as a result we must act as soon as possible. A decision was made to battle the werewolves on open ground, and we have done all that is within our power to prepare for this event. Now, commander Darius, report."

  Darius, who, Demenn noted, looked like nothing had ever happened to him, stood from his chair on the curved seats. He was the commander of the vampire army, but he was also a part of the council, and was no longer a captain of his own unit, so he chose to sit with the councilors, albeit he was given a seat in the front row. He looked around the chamber before beginning his report.

  "Patriarch, Matriarch, honored members of the council, we have eight completed units right now, and two more will be completed by the time the war is upon us. Ten captains, all of ability and clarity of mind, have been chosen to lead them. In short, we have one thousand trained warriors waiting for your command. Also, we have many militia who have expressed their desire to join in our battle, about five hundred or so. In addition to that, we have fifty spell casters and fifteen major spell casters who are ready to give their all for you." He sat down with a satisfied look on his face, and Demenn had to admit that he had done his job well.

  "Good," Vladimir seemed satisfied with the progress as well. "And now, a special report from Dimitrious."

  Dimitrious stood, and Demenn noticed that he was wearing one of the scouting hats on his head, which, while looking completely out of place on him, did manage to completely conceal his forehead. Demenn almost laughed, and was glad that at least some wounds would not be removed by blood. He did wonder just how long the scars would last, though.

  "Patriarch, Matriarch, council members; I have been communing with a very close ally, and I believe that he can aid us significantly in our struggles. One of his generals is here to speak for him. Come, Stragath."

  As soon as he spoke the name, the air in the middle of the council chamber began to twist and ripple, before finally breaking in half as a clawed hand reached out and grabbed a side of it as if it were tangible. The hand flexed, and, eventually, a demon forced its way out of the hole, which slammed shut behind him. The demon looked almost exactly like the vampire's Other form, save that it was red rather than black, lacked wings, and had large spikes protruding from every imaginable space. Large spikes went down its spine, with one at each of its vertebrae, they came out of its shoulders, out of its elbows and knees, its fingers, toes, its tail, and even one from each of its wrists, which stuck out just beyond its fingertips. It stood for a moment, looked around, and then bowed deeply to the council.

  "Ah Stragath," Vladimir's voice was warm. "How many troops can we expect your master to send to our aid in the battle."

  When the demon spoke, its voice was at once very clear and yet very distorted. "My master is not entirely certain, but we know that we can at least match your own contribution to the war. Most warriors will be of a lower class than myself, however, and I am sure that they do not measure up to your own people's standards, but I think that you will find their service satisfactory."

  "Excellent."

  It was at that moment that a dark purple flashed in the side of the council chamber. Almost instantly, Demenn and all of the other captains had pulled out their weapons and were away from their seats, but all of them relaxed a bit when they saw only a floating skull in their midst. The skull slowly turned around, examining the room, before lowering down and floating to the middle of the room. When it faced Vladimir and Safiria, it nodded in a strange attempt at a bow. Then a very familiar voice echoed from its unmoving jaw.

  "Honorable brethren, I am Sophella, a third class vampire from Demenn's squad. Myself and one other vampire survived, but were not able to reach the vampire castle as our comrade Varus was able to. Instead, we traveled to the necromancers, of whom I was once a member, and convinced them to join us in our war. They consented on the condition that we agree to a treaty of peace with them. We are about half the distance between our castle and their land. I would now like to ask if you would agree to their terms. Also, before you answer, I would like to say that, in my limited experience with the werewolves, I found that they must number at least four thousand, and it is likely that they have more."

  Vladimir seemed to hesitate, as if he were weighing his actions carefully. Then, with reluctance, he leaned over to Safiria and whispered into her ear. Any secrecy he might have hoped for was lost when she nodded emphatically. He sighed and turned back. "Thank you for your assistance, Sophella. We have decided that we will make and honor a treaty of peace with the necromancers if they aid us to the best of their ability in our upcoming war."

  Demenn, having listened to all of this, felt a strange sensation in his feet. It slowly worked its way up his body, spreading to his arms and fingers, and finally running up his neck. He felt the hairs on it stand up, and when the feeling hit his head, he knew just what it was as he voiced it in a whisper. "They're alive." He had known that at least one of them survived, but he had not known if more had, or even which one had survived, and now he knew that over half of his squad had lived through their disastrous mission. He could not help but smile, and he had the insane desire to laugh at fate, at chance, and at all of the things that had told him his companions were dead and that he had caused their death. He still thought of Leon, Raphael, and Lidian, and knew that they were dead because of him, but now he could weigh that against having saved his other friends.

  He began to whisper "Thank you," but stopped, when he realized that he had no idea whom he was thanking. He was once again forced to wonder if Lucifer had caused them to live, or whether it had happened from his judgement, or chance. Then a thought struck him; maybe it was none of these, but something different than all three. If Lucifer existed then—

  A loud shriek pierced through Demenn's ears, and he thrust his hands to the side of his head in a futile effort to lessen the glass-shattering noise. As soon as it began, the noise stopped, and Demenn opened his eyes without realizing that he had ever closed them. In the center of the chamber, near where Sophella's skull still floated, a large bat was crouched on the floor. It was larger than most bats Demenn had seen, but only marginally so, and Demenn was puzzling over how it could have made the noise it did when a wave of gasps flowed across the chamber. Immediately, the other captains leaped to circle the raised floor, and Demenn dutifully followed.

  When it was surrounded, the bat turned and started at Demenn, making a strange chill flow over him. He had always known that bats were intelligent, at least far as animals go, but looking into the dark eyes of that bat, he felt that it had more knowledge and understanding than even he did. It stared at him for one more moment, before turning to Vladimir and placing its face to the stone at its feet. />
  Once it was crouched over, its back shot out, expanding in an instant as if it were a balloon. It was hunched over, and its mouth was open in silent pain as the expansion hit its legs and arms. All four of its limbs rippled with muscles as they became humanoid in structure, and its wings were even larger than a vampire's Other form wings, but they were attached to its arms. It stood, flexing all of the muscles across its body as if unused to them. When it stood to its feet, only its head was still its normal size, and it looked highly comical, but then its head reared up and the expansion began with its neck, which bloated, and then finally spread out until it was comfortably sized with the rest of its body.

  When it was fully formed, the bat was a truly magnificent being to behold. It could not have been more than eight feet tall, but Demenn had no doubt that it could easily kill him. Its ears were especially large, taking over almost all of the sides of its face, and its wings folded until they barely appeared to be with it when its arms were by its side, as they were now. After it was finished, it stayed silent for just a few seconds more, then lifted its bestial head to Vladimir, who was staring down at it in confusion, as if he did not know whether to defend himself or welcome the creature. Then it spoke.

  "Hello again, Vladimir."

  At the mention of his name, Vladimir visibly relaxed, and took his hand off of the sword by his side. He forced out a smile. "Hello N'colto." His voice stumbled over the foreign enunciation of the name. "It has been quite awhile since we last met."

  "It may have been, in your years, but in ours it seems like only yesterday. My wife's murder still weighs heavily in my mind." At those words, all of the captains tensed and Vladimir subtly placed his hand back on the hilt of his sword. Seeing this, N'colto laughed, "But that is not why I am here. My people have been watching the werewolves for years, and what your scout says is true, the werewolves have thousands of warriors, and they also have many first class warriors. In addition, the werewolf King has enlisted the help of the Razorclaws and the Lycanthropes in this battle."

  If the news disturbed Vladimir, he did not show it. "And your point is."

  N'colto ticked his head to the side swiftly. "My point is that you will be greatly outnumbered in every way by a foe that, besides in intellect, is superior to you, and you need all of the help you can receive. I am here to pledge the service of myself and my people in battle with you."

  "But why do this now? We have always hunted you and your kind?" Vladimir seemed to be leading somewhere with his question, rather than being truly curious.

  N'colto crossed his large hands behind his back. "That is true, but the werewolves have been no kinder to us than you have, and in this battle we have the chance to eliminate one of our two main hunters. They are more beasts than men, and may conveniently forget any truce made with them. Your people have always had control of your senses, and even called a halt to our genocide when you thought that we might become extinct. For this reason we wish to ally ourselves with you and create a pact."

  "Ah," Vladimir nodded knowingly. "So you do wish for a treaty to made with your people."

  "Of course." N'colto never let any sign of distress show in his face.

  "Then what are your terms?"

  N'colto sighed before speaking. "We want to be considered allies of your people, and to have our hunting stopped for as long as we are allies."

  Demenn knew what that meant. It meant that N'colto and his people would only be protected for as long as they were considered useful, which would probably only be until the war was finished. The terms were perfect for Vladimir, too perfect for him to refuse.

  "Very well, N'colto. I agree with your terms. How many Chiroptera will you send you the field?"

  There was a pause. "Fifty."

  "So few?" Vladimir looked amused. "For the boon that I am granting you, could you not at least make a token effort to help in this war?"

  "A token effort." Behind his back, his fists clenched. "I am sending every remaining member of my race to battle for you, and you call it less than a token effort? Fifty is all that we have left, males and females. You have both hunted us to death. Although, I'm sure that you will find our numbers sufficient. You must remember how it almost always takes a squad of your first class rabble to take down one of our own, and how it is one of your orders to flee immediately if two of us are together."

  "This is true." Vladimir said it without any hint of grudge, which made Demenn think that this Chiroptera must be more powerful than he had imagined. "Your aid is appreciated, and we will hold on to our end of the bargain. I look forward to seeing how powerful you and your people are in a field of battle.

  "Now, unless any other unexpected allies decide to come and pledge their aid, I will call this meeting to an end. We all have many tasks at hand, so let us not waste any time. Be about your tasks."

  Demenn and all of the other captains sheathed their weapons, and all of the council members stood to leave, while Vladimir motioned for the flying skull to follow him as he turned to leave as well. Demenn had never noticed until now, but when he saw all of the captains together, with their weapons drawn, they seemed like the strangest group of individuals he had ever seen. None of them looked identical, with one having shaved his head, two others with dyed hair, one with a large amount of piercings, and the few others with distinguishing hairstyles. Even their dress looked strange to him. What all of them wore was based on the traditional wear that all vampires wore, but each was changed in some way. One of the women had changed hers to have a long skirt, and the other had cut hers into shorts and a small shirt. The men had made various changes to their appropriate wear, with some adding on extra, like a cloak, pockets, chains, or even a full jacket, and others cutting parts off.

  Even stranger than their appearance and choice of clothing, though, were their weapons. Demenn's choice of a spear was the tamest out of them. Like he had noticed before, Valdivai had her strange kama-warhammer weapons, but even those looked normal to some of the weapons drawn when N'Colto had entered the room. The other female carried a long whip that had a normal-sized blade at the end of it. When the standoff was over she swiftly whipped it back and it neatly curled over and under her arm, with the blade falling neatly over her shoulder and lying across her back.

  The males' weapons seemed to mostly be centered on the design of a sword, with the notable exception of the one who had a large, thick, curved stick in his hands with only one metal spike at the crook of it, which looked too large for him, and the other who had only held a small stick about six inches long and one inch in diameter with small spikes at the ends in one of his hands, but each sword was tweaked in a strange manner. One looked like he had three swords forged together into something like a screw, which he promptly sheathed into the side of his body when the battle was over, and another had one sword that had a base of longsword, but all through the length of it, about a dozen other blades or varying width, length, even shape had been grafted into it perpendicularly. All of their blades were made of Wulfsbane.

  The last one, who seemed to have the most normal-looking weapon, had a sword that went straight half of the way to the top, like any normal sword, but then stuck forward and curved sharply like a scimitar so that, even though it was curved, the tip was directly above the hilt. Demenn wondered what good having a sword shaped like that would do, but he felt it best not to ask.

  He soon had to do far more than merely observe them, however, for they were all walking towards him. When the reached him, they circled around him, and began talking to each other as if he were not there.

  "This is Demenn, huh?"

  "I thought he'd look different."

  "I wonder if he really turned Other before becoming a first class…"

  "He looks disturbingly normal."

  "Well, at least he's not fighting with a sword. A spear's kind of original."

  When it seemed that they had satisfied their curiosity over him, Valdivai stepped forward and faced Demenn, A smile lit up her face,
and her straight red hair tilted as she shifted to extend her hand towards him. She spoke as they shook hands.

  "Greetings Demenn. I am Valdivai, captain of the eighth squad, and I would like to welcome you to the ranks of the captains. Everyone, introduce yourselves." Demenn found that she was not asking them in any sense of the word.

  The male to her right, who had countless piercings and a screw-sword stuck into his side, stepped forward first. He had added many chains onto his uniform, which clanked with every movement he made. He cocked his head to the side and back first, but then he extended his hand. "Julius, third unit captain, and you're Demenn, don't be weak or I'll kill you myself." When Demenn clasped hands with him, he felt a great amount of pressure and had to give as much back to keep his hand from breaking. He hoped that this would not be a trend.