by Kindred Ult
His death infuriated the other one, who began to swing his hammer around with abandon, but eventually it was broken at the shaft by a werepyre's claws, and then they swarmed him and ripped his body to pieces.
The last one, N'colto, had been fighting like all of the others, save that he had taken flight and was trying his best to protect them, until the last of them died. Once that happened, he flexed his wings and flew straight towards Lueke. The werepyres bunched in front of him as he tried to escape the dome, but he blew through them with all of the force of a small meteor. As all of the others saw where he was going, they flew around to try to catch him, but he was too fast for them. He collided with Lueke in the air, and they began to fall as they grappled back and forth in the air. They were face to face, and Lueke could see the pain in N'colto's eyes. It made him want to laugh.
"Hello again, N'colto. It has been a long time."
"Damn you, Lueke." N'colto struggled harder against him as they neared the ground. Just before they hit, however, hands grabbed all over N'colto and tore him from Lueke. Lueke flapped his wings hard and landed on the ground gently. In moments the werepyres had N'colto subdued and landed him on the ground as well. He was forced to his knees, and Lueke knelt down to look him in the eyes.
"Oh come now, you're not still mad about what I did to your family, are you?"
N'colto refused to let Lueke see him in agony any more, so he smiled. "I know what you are Lueke."
This shook the smile from Lueke's face, and gave him pause.
"Werepyres, a clever ruse. If only they knew—"
"Silence!" Lueke roared as he lashed out his huge hand and tore N'colto's adam's apple, and voice box, from his throat. Even then N'colto tried to speak, but all that came out was wheezing. "I know that you're still alive." Lueke grabbed N'colto's head and shoved it up until they were facing. "So you should feel this thoroughly." He turned to those around him and began walking away. "Eat him alive, from the feet up. Don't let him die until you reach his heart."
Lueke turned around and was beginning to take pleasure in N'colto's grunts of pain as the werepyre snapped bones and ground muscles from him with every bite when his third in command, Barrack, came up and reported.
"Amazingly, sir, we lost about forty men in that fight. With this amount, we won't be able to hunt down and completely destroy them before sunrise."
N'colto's pelvic bone was being torn open, and he finally let out a scream of pain when they began to rip off the halves of it with their teeth. "Damn, oh well, get the men to scour the battlefield in search of those not yet dead but who were too weakened to escape. Offer them life as a werepyre to save them. That should rebuild our troops, if not make them even larger than before. We will kill them tomorrow night with our new force."
Barrack nodded and flew off just as the werewolves who were eating N'colto, having already reduced him to half of what he should be, ripped his intestines out and reached in to remove his heart. They reveled in the taste, and Lueke smiled in victory as the last light left the eyes of that forest's most ancient inhabitant. "Now I'm finally one step closer. We will be the last race alive in this forest, I swear it on the graves of my mother and father."
Assassin
24
AssassinDamian and Brand, together, scanned the forest around the newly-erected campsite of the three main armies. Demenn looked about with his eyes, while Brand let them go and regarded the forest without them. The two of them were very anxious, as dawn was coming very soon, and what happened in the few minutes between then and now would decide the fate of many hundreds of warriors. They had recently learned that the werepyres had one weakness, in their great list of strengths: They would die in the sunlight, like the vampires, and they could not maintain their special forms in the daytime, like the werewolves. It seemed that this combination of weaknesses was their only fault, and the only thing that had saved them. Or that might save them.
If those who had stayed behind had done a sufficient job of delaying the enemy, then they would have an entire day to plan their battle, or flight, and to organize their forces. If they had been quickly overrun, however, and the werepyres were on their way after the armies at this moment, then many would die before dawn came. The damage would be irreparable.
Demenn gave a sigh of relief when Brand finally announced that there were no werepyres in the area around them. They would survive another day, at least. Satisfied that their jobs had been fulfilled, they turned back and headed towards the amalgam of individual camps that made up their refuge. As they walked, Demenn turned to regard the one who had, until very recently, been his enemy.
"So Deathbreak, you are a vampire slayer?"
"I told you my name," Brand returned. "and yes, I am."
Demenn stepped aside a vampire rolled up in a tight body bag that covered all of him. "But that must compete with your night job quite a bit, I mean besides being able to kill vampires."
Brand chuckled. "It definitely does, but Nasoren, she showed me that I could be both a werewolf and a vampire slayer, so long as I do not let my instincts overcome my convictions. I will only act as a werewolf until it goes against what I believe to to right, and then I will deny myself."
"So...Have you not killed a human before?" Demenn's face was grave and inquisitive.
Brand looked down. "A human? No, but I have killed an innocent. I killed and devoured my friend and brother, a dwarf. When I first turned, he was there, and I thought that it was beyond me to control myself, so I gave in without a fight. I murdered him, and I would have killed many more in my Bloodlust, had not Nasoren stopped me and saved me. I have not killed a single pure one since then and, with her help, I intend never to."
When he looked back up he saw Demenn staring at him with a mixture of sorrow and envy. "I truly wish that I could say the same. I have drained countless innocents, and killed many more."
Brand was mildly surprised by the remorse. "But you regret what you have done, do you not?"
Demenn chuckled slightly. "Regret cannot take back their deaths. Regretted sin is sin nonetheless."
"I suppose that you are right." Brand sighed. "But you must have known what this life entailed before you chose it, so why did you?"
"I was given a choice between death or life, and at the time, I was too selfish to realize that death is by far the better choice. I suppose that I still am, as otherwise I would not still be alive." Demenn replied.
They continued to walk through the large camp in silence until Brand finally asked the question he had been wanting to.
"Who was it who turned you, and gave you the decision?"
"An old bastard of a vampire. They say that he was the oldest of them all left alive, and he was a good being. Better than most humans, in truth. He was killed long ago, however."
"How?" Brand asked.
"Political intrigue. I was supposed to protect him, but I was off trying to raise my rank, and so he died." Demenn quickly changed the subject. "You spoke of Nasoren, were you the one who brought her to the werewolves?"
Brand was checked by that comment. "You know Nasoren?"
Demenn wondered if he should have mentioned it, but figured that it was best to keep on going. "Yes, I saved her once from one of the other villagers who was trying to kill her. I have no knowledge of what has happened to her between that moment and meeting her in the werewolf dungeon, however."
Brand stopped, looked up, and then began laughing softly and shaking his head. Demenn watched him curiously until he finally started speaking.
"Wait...So then were you the one who killed all of those bandits, the boy, those villagers, and that pack of werewolves?"
Demenn raised an eyebrow. "I have no memory of slaying villagers, but I did kill the bandits, the boy, and those werewolves, yes."
Brand was looking incredulous. "Well then, that means that you are the reason I was sent to this part of the forest and eventually turned into a werewolf."
"You came in reaction to what I did?"
"Definitely. I do have one question I've always wanted to ask, though. Who or what are Kyrion, Nicole, and Helen?"
Demenn almost smiled in memory. "They were my father, mother and sister. The one whose chest I carved their names into was named Wulf, and he and his brother had slain all of them when I was young."
"So then that hunt was one of vengeance?"
Demenn looked upwards with his eyes a bit, remembering. "Partly, that one had recently become a first class, and had been flaunting his power before our race. I decided to go and risk my life to stop him."
"And what of the two vampire slayers who were there, how did they act?"
"They caught me, but the werewolves caught up to us before they could kill me, and so they let me go and helped me to defeat all of them. They fought well. They sat out of the final fight, but the older one attacked me and I had to kill him. The younger had been bitten and was turning to a werewolf, so I gave him the same choice I had been given. He chose better than I, and so I beheaded him."
Brand nodded. "That adds up, thank you."
By then they had reached the heart of the camp, and were little surprised to see that chaos reigned all over the grounds. Vampires, werewolves, slayers, and paladins ran all about trying to prepare for dawn, which was imminent. They made their way through the crowd of assorted races until they were stopped by Nasoren. She turned quickly to Brand and addressed him.
"Brand, E is dying. He requested to see you and the vampire as soon as possible."
Without a look Demenn's way, she spun and began walking in the way they presumed E's tent to lie. Brand smiled apologetically at Demenn and, when his smile was returned with a morose grin, they followed after her. It was obvious that she had not forgiven Demenn in the slightest, but he was resigned to that, and also felt he deserved her reproach.
The tent they were looking for, and quickly reached, was a little away from all of the others, and had a small crowd of humans around it. The group parted for the two immortals, and when they made it inside, they saw E on a cot, surrounded by his aids and with Safiria bending over him. She had one of his hands clasped by hers, and her face was wet with tears, as he struggled to breath under the bandages that had been hastily placed over his mortal wound. Medical magic had been applied to him, but either due to the magical properties of Vladimir's weapons, or due to E's age, they were only able to delay his death rather than stop it.
The first thing the two of them noticed when E sat up to greet them was that his face and skin looked like he had aged decades in the last few hours since his wound. He was in obvious pain, and it seemed that only Safiria's support kept him from falling back down. He tried to smile, but it quickly turned to a grimace of pain, and when he spoke, his voice sounded tired, as if drained of life.
"Brand, Demenn, please come closer. Good. Brand, I have known you for most of my life, and though you are far older than I am, I have always considered you as more of a son than anything else. You have passed every other vampire slayer, excluding myself, in martial skill, purity of conscience, and judgment. If I could choose any to follow after me as the leader of the vampire slayers, it would most certainly be you.
Demenn, I have never met you personally until just this moment, but I have heard many good things about you from others in this camp, and I watched you in your duels and in combat. You appear to have exceptional character, and a strong sense of what is right and wrong. Your martial prowess is also argued by none. You have a better chance of being a good person than many humans do.
I am swiftly leaving this world, and I have no regrets. I have seen my sister returned to me, even if not saved, and that is all I can expect. However, I have one thing left to do before I leave. I must bestow my Sword of Office upon one of you. None of my other officers has the strength required to hold it, and no other being in this forest, no matter how powerful, has an untainted conscience sufficient enough to hold it for very long or to use it rightly. You two are the only other two that have the strength, and I can only pray that one of you has a pure enough heart to wield it. Brand, come forward first."
E picked up the sword from where it lay on the ground and held it out. Just holding it in his hand seemed to make him ten years younger. Brand walked up and and grabbed it with one hand to bring it up. When it was level with him, he wrapped his other hand around the grip, and held it with both hands, waiting. For some reason, as soon as he touched it, he felt that it was probing his mind; digging around inside him like a worm. It searched through his deepest memories and forced itself into the deepest crevices of his psyche.
His mind went back hundred of years to when he was just a child, and then quickly sped up through the years all of the way until that night at Valestren when he had ripped his partner apart and eaten him. Once that scene was done, the force inside him rewound and watched it again and again. He kept seeing himself tear into his friend over and over. He tasted the blood again, and it disgusted him. Brand closed his eyes to try to dispel the images, but when he did he heard a voice inside his head whisper.
"You are not worthy to wield me."
He felt his hands begin to grow hot, and realized that the handle of the blade was beginning to burn into him. At first it was weak, and he could still hold on, but then it increased dramatically, and it felt like his hands were on fire. With a grunt, he slowly bent forward, even though he felt like his skin would start melting at any moment, and placed the sword back in E's hands.
"I am not worthy to wield the blade." He said with finality, and he believed it too. The images in his head were too telling for him to ignore. He knew that he was not worthy. He looked down at his hands, and they had red outlines of the sword's handle on them. When E got the sword back, he sighed.
"I am sorry, my son, but it has rejected you. Demenn, it is your turn."
Demenn approached the sword and grabbed its handle with his right hand. He lifted it from E's grasp and held it horizontally in front of him with one hand. He stared down at it, and everyone watched, him. After a few long moments, his face made the slightest twist, but after that he was completely passive. Once a minute had passed, E smiled.
"Good, it seems that the sword had chosen you, Demenn. May you wield it against the werepyres, and against anything else that threatens justice. Now that I know that my sister is with me and the future is in the hands of the two of you, I...I can die in peace..." With those last words, E, the only light in the dark forest, took one last breath, and then died as he let it out. The world already seemed darker without him, and even the ever-illuminated Sword of Office dimmed perceptively.
Everyone was silent, but then one by one they turned their heads to Demenn, who walked to the exit of the tent, opened the flap, and walked out, the sword still in his hand. He walked from there through the camp, where everyone else also stared at him, and finally into his own, large tent. Once he closed the flaps behind him, he dropped the sword and fell to his knees, clutching his hand to his chest. When he took it away, he saw that his palm was bleeding, and that the engravings on the hand were already burned into his hand. Around them, the skin had been melting off of his hand, and he bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the pain that still coursed through his body, but that was slowly getting weaker now that he had let go of the sword. He could feel that the inlays from the handle were already going to be permanently branded into his hand, and probably his other one as well once he used it.
"Hurts like Hell," He gasped to no one in particular. "But not as bad as that cross did, and this thing's accusations cannot compare to Lucifer's. I can endure this. I can do this." Even through the blood on his hand, he could still see the image of the cross in it. His memories had already been ravaged to their utmost.
* * *
"Damn this light!" Lueke growled, "We could have caught and killed them all by now if it wasn't for those five, and that damn sun." He sat in his human form, which even without being in werepyre form, was still quite intimidating, under the shade of a tree a
nd brooded until one of his captains hailed him and walked through the shade of the tree before stopping a respectful distance from him.
Lueke gave him moderate attention. "Report."
"Sir, our numbers have grown to at least three hundred from the recruits on the battlefield. Also, one of them gave off that he was very important, and wished to speak with you."
Lueke was intrigued, but was even more so when a fully formed werepyre walked through the shade towards him. At first he thought it was an illusion, but when he realized it was true he jumped to his feet.
"What is your name, werepyre?"
"Dimitrious," the werepyre returned "I was a vampire lord. I am also the leading worshiper of Lucifer in the vampire nation."
