Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1)

by Brent Lee Markee

  At her announcement a quiet debate started up amongst the men, and Victor could tell that they were betting on whether or not she could make the shot. While this was going on Victor watched Elandria string her bow, marveling at how a lithe half elf could string her mighty longbow with such apparent ease. In the background Victor saw the group's Battlesorcerer Trenton Grimbash moving apart from the group as he began to work on his Shapings.

  “Ye' gonna' shoot Elly, or just stand there lookin' at the scenery?” Rundig, whom the squad affectionately referred to as the walking armory because of the amount of weaponry he carried around, was obviously ready for the engagement to come. Victor also thought that he had heard the Dwarf say that she would hit the wrong eye, so hurrying her into making her shot was in his best interests.

  “Shut it Rundig.” Eliandra said as she moved to the top of the hill, in full view of the patrol below should they happen to look in this direction. In one smooth motion she withdrew and arrow from her quiver, nocked it, drew back and shot.

  Before meeting the impressive half-elf Victor would have assumed that the shot was impossible. After having watched the archer practice her craft over the last ten days he thought that if anyone could make the shot it was this petite warrior. The Magnus Dracani had eyes about the same size as Victor's head, however those eyes were currently a few hundred yards away. There were quite a few things that could go wrong to mess up the shot. If the fletching wasn't perfect the arrow wouldn't fly true, if a strong wind came up suddenly the arrow could be knocked off course, or the Magnus Dracani could move in a manner that she had not predicted. As the arrow flew through the air Victor watched as Elandria carefully unstrung her bow, and placed it carefully back into it's case. She was pulling out a different bow when a bellowing roar sent every bird within a mile into flight.

  “I'll be a bearded gnome.” Rundig said as he handed a small pouch to the Cleric Bredwin. “Nice shot lass.”

  “As if shot by the hand of Ragnós himself.” Bredwin stated, no hint of the brogue that Victor had begun to associate with Dwarves was apparent as the Cleric spoke.

  Several others on the hill were exchanging coins as the two Dracani Warriors pointed in their direction and began running uphill, moving from side to side enough to be a hard target for any more arrows from the party. The speed with which the creatures traversed the terrain surprised Victor. Their strides seeming more like small leaps to the young man.

  Victor quickly moved back from the ledge, trying to get a distance away from the squad that he thought should be fairly safe from the coming battle. By the time he turned around and drew his dagger the fight was already beginning. The two Dracani managed to leap onto the escarpment with little effort, their massive swords already drawn. Victor noticed the two Grey Elves had backed away from the fight as well, standing just in front of the Half-Ogre Battlemage who seemed deep in concentration.

  Had someone chanced upon the little battle at that moment, it may have looked like the two gray elves and the Half-ogre behind them had fallen asleep, but Victor knew from the power that the three were pulling in and shaping that they were very busy indeed. Victor looked back to the battle just as Rundig took a shallow cut from the tip of the black Dracair Warrior's blade. Rundig was one of the few warriors that Victor had met who utilized armor for protection. the Protectorate had long ago learned that the best way to not die when fighting the Dracair, or any of their minions was to simply not get hit. There were few materials strong enough to hold up against the attacks of these massive creatures. That being said, there were a few known alloys that could stand up to such beatings, and Rundig was one of the few people who knew how to make armor out of such, as evidenced by the next swing of the Dracair warrior as it rung the Dwarfs armor like a bell. The vibrations that ran up the sword from the impact made the warrior step back, and opened him up for the attacks of the other members of the squad.

  Victor could barely track the action of the battle, but he watched as Elandria rolled out of the melee and began to carefully pick her shots at the two Dracani. The fight had only been underway for moments, and already there were many wounds on the two Dracair warriors. Watching the battle, Victor couldn't help but feel like something was missing, and a moment later he realized that the screams had stopped from the other side of the hill. Another moment passed, and he could feel the ground shaking as the Magnus Dracani began to run up hill towards the fight. This seemed to be the cue for the Battlesorcerer Grimbash as suddenly began to swell in size.

  Victor saw the head of the Magnus Dracani as it reached the escarpment and tried to pull itself up. It's bulk was too great however, and it would have to break enough of the wall to make it up the hill, or go around so that it could enter the melee. Out of the corner of his eye Victor thought he saw Nim move in from behind the white Dracani and stab the beast in the neck, it had happened so quickly that Victor wasn't sure it had really happened. The creature faltered shortly thereafter, giving Sergeant McDowell time to set up the kill. The Fiery haired Dwarf used the back of his axe to hit the Dracani's knee, which caused it to lose its footing, and then shortly thereafter its head. The Dracani's head made a shrill cry before it hit the ground that sent a shiver down Victor's spine.

  After a few hits the Magnus Dracani seemed to decide that it would be easier to make its way around to the top of the hill rather than smash its way through the rock. About the same time the Magnus Dracani decided to go around, the Half-ogre seemed to have finished his shaping. Now twice the size he had been, both in height, and in muscle mass the Battlesorcerer began to run, his course taking him to where the Magnus Dracani would soon be coming to the top of the mountain.

  As the massive Dracair came around the corner at the end of the escarpment he was met by a humanoid figure that was taller than itself charging straight at him. The Magnus Dracani's s steps faltered momentarily, obviously not expecting to see anything that it would consider a viable threat at the top of the hill, but it recovered quickly and began to charge the massive Half-Ogre. Seeing that the Magnus Dracani was going to come to him the Battlesorcerer slowed his steps and prepared to meet the Magnus Dracani head on. The two titanic figures were about forty yards away from where the rest of the squad was now whittling away at the remaining Dracani. As the Magnus Dracani charged, the Battlesorcerer seemed to solidify his footing. A moment before impact the Half-ogre reached out, grabbed hold of the Magnus Dracani's wrists, and flung the creature straight overhead. Victor's mouth dropped open as the beast flew ten feet and hit the ground with an impact that made everyone except the Half-Ogre lose their balance.

  Nim was the first to recover, quickly using his advantage to cut the black Dracani's throat. The rest of the party stood and watched as the Magnus Dracani rolled over to regain its footing, clearly disturbed and amazed at what had just happened to it. The beast had managed to get a claw into the Battlesorcerer's shoulder as he flew overhead, but the damage seemed superficial at best. Enraged the Dracair charged again, this time at a slower pace, and much more cautiously. What the large man did next however surprised both the Magnus Dracani and Victor. Grimbash bent his knees and then proceeded to vault over the lumbering behemoth charging at him, managing to get his feet under himself in time to kick off of the Magnus Dracani's head.

  Disoriented and moving too fast for anything of its bulk to stop in time, the Magnus Dracani may have realized in the moment before he fell off the escarpment that the Battlesorcerer had set him up for a fall, quite literally. As the beast hit the ground Victor heard a sound that his mind associated with a rock slide, but was in fact, the Magnus Dracani breaking several bones as it crashed into the hillside. The entire squad ran to the edge of the escarpment see if the beast had broken its neck in the fall.

  For a moment the beast lay still, but suddenly it released a groan of pain and rolled over. One of the creatures legs didn't want to support its body, and one of his arms hung loose at an odd angle. After only a moments hesitation, and seemingly without thought
of the pain it would cause the Magnus Dracani set its leg, and then its arm. The beast stood there defiantly, assured of his own invincibility; unfortunately, the creatures pomposity couldn't have prepare it for the large man that quickly pounced on it from above. The Beasts used its good arm to swipe at the big mans chest as he came crashing down upon the Dracair. The Half-Ogre grabbed the creatures head, seemingly unfazed by the gaping wound, and made a loud grunt of exertion as he twisted the creatures head so that it faced its own tail.

  The two colossus's crumpled to the ground. The Half-Ogre was exhausted and gravely wounded, but the Magnus Dracani was down for the count. Za'erath jumped off of the Escarpment and landed softly next to the two figures.

  “McDowell, Jameson, Get down here and help me turn him over.” the Grey Elf priest said, post-battle being one of the few times he was allowed to order people around.

  Without thought Corporal and Sergeant responded to the order and jumped down with the large human warrior to go to their companion's aid. The two men struggled greatly with the Half-Ogres increased mass, and if the Battlesorcerer hadn't already been on his side Victor doubted that the two men would have been able to get the Half-Ogre onto his back.

  “This is bad, Dracair claw wounds don't heal with magic as well as other wounds. It is almost as bad as poison. I can stop the bleeding, but the wound is going to have to heal at a near natural rate.” No one said anything about the fact that they all already knew that information, because a helpful note of caution was always accepted, and expected amongst companions. “I need your help Bredwin.” He said looking up at the blond haired Dwarf on the top of the small cliff.

  “Right” The Cleric said as he ran to his packs and grabbed a small satchel. Moments later he leapt down to assist the priest.

  Victor, wanting to join them, but not wanting to jump ten feet down decided on a compromise, and landed on the back of the Magnus Dracani. It was harder than it looked, and it had already looked fairly solid. He walked up the creatures back and stared into its lifeless eyes. The creature's head was nearly the size of his entire body.

  “Brave lad.” He heard Bredwin mutter as he began picking out herbs for the poultice they would use on the Battlesorcerer's wounds.

  Victor saw the Grey Elf look up at him as grabbed the Mortar and Pestle from the satchel the Bredwin had brought down. “He wouldn't be with us if he wasn't.” That was all that the man said before going back to work.

  As Victor turned to study the Magnus Dracani an odd thought struck him. Staring into the sightless eye of the large creature, Victor knew that all a Blood Mage would have to do to revive the beast would be to rotate its head back into the right direction before he could kick start the Magnus Dracani's natural regeneration. He wasn't really sure where the thought had come from, or why he was suddenly cutting at the creature's neck with his dagger, but it felt right. It was slow work, but it was work only suitable for a dagger or small knife. The scales had to be cut away from the beasts neck before the head could be removed, and the scales were only small enough to be penetrated by a slim blade. Looking at the creature as he did his work, Victor realized that if someone were skilled enough they could place a blade into the creatures throat under a scale, and restrict some of the creatures air flow and mobility. That line of thinking lead him to wonder if such a cut could be achieved from a throw. Cutting around the large patch of scales at the front of the creature's throat, Victor managed to get a section that he would be able to test his theory on later.

  As the head fell to the ground Victor hopped off the beast, scales in hand and walked towards the nearest stream. The stream had steady current, so Victor wasn't too concerned about the blood pooling and poisoning whatever would drink from the water. He cleaned himself thoroughly before rinsing the patch of scales in the water. Walking back towards the squad he found a tree that he was able to place the section of scales upon in order to test his theory. Measuring out out thirty paces he began to practice on the scales. After a few dozen attempts he decided that it would be a difficult throw, but wouldn't be impossible, with the right weapon. He found that the dagger that Shaylyn had given him breached the scales much easier than his other daggers, but he didn't like throwing that one so he only tried that once.

  When his arm was starting to get to a point where it was throwing off his aim he heard someone say that Grimbash was stirring. Victor grabbed his daggers, wiped them off, and sheathed them before going to see how his companion was doing.

  Chapter 18

  Heritage of the Blood

  Year 3043 AGD

  Month of Ragnós

  Second Fourth Day

  Continent of Terroval

  Southwest of Asylum

  When Victor entered the impromptu camp he noticed people staring at him. His first thought was that he had missed some blood while he was cleaning, but after a quick check with the mirror from his pack he decided that wasn't it. Then he thought that maybe they were just looking staring off as they occasionally do, and he was imagining their looking at him. After a few minutes though he abandoned that theory as people kept talking amongst themselves and looking discreetly in his direction. Fiddling with his dagger on a small piece of wood he felt rather uncomfortable.

  After a few minutes he walked over to where the Dwarf Cleric and the Grey Elf Priest were treating their Half-Ogre companion. He noticed as he walked down the embankment that someone had taken the time to remove the head from the other Dracair Warrior, and nodded in approval to himself. The big man was still laying near the body of the Dracair Dreadnaught, but his size had returned to normal, which was still large.

  “How is he?” Victor asked the Grey Elf.

  “He'll be ok. He woke up once, that was when we got him to release the spells so we could manage him more easily. Of course, it was easier treating the wound when he was bigger, but since it is treated it will heal better now that it is smaller.” Victor was looking at his companion in a new light after the battle that had occurred not too long ago. After a few moments of silence Victor looked up from the Half-Ogre. The Za'erath and Bredwin were both looking at him in the same way the rest of the group had been. Fiddling with the handle of his dagger for a moment Victor waved to the two healers and walked back towards the stream.

  Leaning over the water Victor looked at his reflection. Not seeing any blood on his face, or clothes he sat on the bank dumbfounded. A short while later Victor sensed the presence of someone a few yards behind him. He didn't feel threatened by it, but he knew it wasn't Nim. He could feel the eyes probing him though, and felt that uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades. Whoever it was, they were standing upwind from him, so he couldn't catch a scent. The softness of the footfalls told him it wasn't one of the Dwarves, and even though one of the Dwarves was rather good at sneaking around, his foot falls still sounded heavy compared to those he was hearing now.

  “I wonder what thoughts plague a mind such as yours Victor.” A soft voice from behind said. He recognized the voice as Elandria, the Half-Elven archer.

  With a snicker of cynical amusement Victor replied, “I often wonder what thoughts don't plague my mind. It's those ones that I need to worry about.”

  Elandria walked up beside him before sitting down next to him on the bank of the stream. He looked over at her and realized that she wasn't wearing her leather armor, and that she had put on light travel clothes. Her hair, which she usually had back in a pony tail, was down and flowing over her shoulders. She must have noticed his careful consideration of her from his reflection in the water, because a slight grin appeared on her face as she stared down into the gently flowing water.

  “I suppose you are right, but most of us don't expect a person your age to consider such things. How old are you anyway?” She looked at him, really looked, as few others had ever done to him, and it made him feel odd.

  “Eight and a half.” He said, his voice coming out in a whisper.

  She let out a low whistle, and then chuckled softly. It w
as a soft laugh that made Victor feel comfortable. Shaylyn had often laughed in much the same manner. He wasn't sure if he should be offended that she was laughing, but something told him that she was laughing more at the universe than she was at him.

  “You may have noticed people looking at you.” When Victor nodded slightly, she continued. “It isn't meant as a disrespect to you, in fact it is probably quite the opposite. You see, there is something that all of us here have in common. It is why we work so well together, and why we are known as a unit that gets the job done and survives.” She paused briefly as if gathering her thoughts. “We all share the heritage of the blood.”

  Victor looked at her carefully, and wondered were this conversation was going. He quickly perused his memories to see if he had ever heard of this before, the only memory he could recall was from several years earlier. He concentrated on the image in his head, and recalled the event. It was one of the outings that Shaylyn had taken him on for his training. They were sitting at a small campfire, and they had just accosted a small band of goblin-kin that had raided a small farm.

  “You did well back there Victor.” Shaylyn looked at him carefully.

  “That was neat Shaylyn. My heart was beating so fast! I could hear it in my ears. When that goblin had that club raised at me I thought I was gonna die. It was great!” Victor said with the enthusiasm of a five year old boy that didn't quite understand his own mortality.

  “Yes, great…” She chuckled softly. “Victor you have to be more cautious. If you get so preoccupied with what is happening in front of you, then you won't notice the blade entering your back until it is too late.” She put her hand on her head and sighed. “I really wish I didn't have to teach you these things yet.”

  “I was thinking about that.” Victor said softly. “Why is it that I can't show what I can do to the other kids? You said that they can't do things like me, but why? Why am I different? Why…”