by John Davis
He was outmatched and knew it. But perhaps, just perhaps, he would be stronger this time. Fighting for the fallen and those who could not fight for themselves, rather than his own legacy. For he too was a lion, and he was wounded and desperate. A hellhound sprinting by his side all the while.
“Someone approaches!” Bral yelled as the others came rushing.
“It's Roman, he has defeated Vladris!” Anthony said loudly.
“They do not have the glow of victory upon their faces, and ride as though death follows closely behind.” Ranthra replied.
“Quickly, help Roman from his mount!” Gore yelled as both he and Troy joined the others on foot.
“What of Vladris? The others...Four?” Anthony asked.
“I faced Vladris sword to sword, yet he still lives,” Roman said with pause. “I would not be alive now if not for Tunak and Four coming to my aid.”
“And what of them?” Ranthra asked blatantly.
Roman answered his question with a stare, one of both remorse for the fallen and ill-intent toward Ranthra.
“Roman believes they are coming here to end us all, which means we need to dig in if we are to survive.” Gore said.
“No,” Roman replied, shaking his head with regret. “You are to take Troy to the ship as planned.”
“But Roman, I...” Gore began.
“Troy is my son!” Roman replied, stopping to look at the young man once more. “If I am to face Vladris again, I cannot do so with the worry of Troy.”
“But you said Vladris cannot be beaten.” Troy replied, catching the attention of the entire group.
“He cannot. At least not by the hands of a single man. Together, however, we may be able to finally rid our world of the mightiest of demons.” Roman replied.
“When will they come?” Draden asked, the Dragonborn warrior's eyes skimming the tree line.
“I'm not sure, but it will be soon,” Roman replied. “And I cannot ask any of you to stay for this fight, not against such odds.”
“We are with you to the end.” Pica replied, pulling his freshly oiled bow to the ready.
“As am I,” Ranthra said, glancing to the warrior in charge as he wielded a massive axe of razor-sharp iron. “There is strength in numbers, and I will defend my home.”
“Indeed,” Roman replied with a grin, nodding his respect to Ranthra. “Gore. A word.”
“Yes?” Gore asked, approaching Roman so the two could talk without hinderance.
“I am asking you to take Troy because I believe we will fall. Perhaps we will be able to thin their ranks, or even slay Vladris. But I do feel as though my time has come.”
“Then why stay behind? We can flee to my homeworld, regroup, and then arrive back in force?” Gore asked.
“Because I don't flee. If it were not for the longing of seeing Troy one last time, I would have stayed behind with Tunak and Gore to meet my own demise.”
“I am not used to you speaking such words of defeat.” Gore said.
“Nor am I,” Roman replied somberly. “But I have seen into the eyes, the very soul of Vladris. He speaks with ghosts and fights as though he were already dead. He has nothing to live for, and because of that he fights as though he were a lion. I have a concern for Troy now. It has weakened me.”
“I will take Troy to my homeworld, you need not worry for his safety. The Husk there, my own family, we will care for him as our own should you fall in battle. Only concern yourself with the fight that is coming and a moment of victory.” Gore replied.
“Thank you my brother.” Roman replied, shaking hands with his loyal friend before turning to Troy.
“Gore has promised to take you to safety. Await word of my battle, and always do by him as you would by me. Understand?” Roman asked.
“Yes,” Troy said with tear-filled eyes, reaching into a long pocket on his leg. “This blade belongs to you. You gave it to me when I was but a child. Take it, and you bury it into that big-fanged son of a bitch. If you care anything for me, you'll do that.”
“Take care...son. No matter what happens from this moment forward, you are destined to live a warrior's path. Always.” Roman replied, looking at the young man for a moment before hugging him.
As Gore and Troy walked away, the young man turned to look upon Roman one last time.
“They killed my family, your family, our friends, and most of all, tried forcing both you and Sarah into a life of servitude. You make them pay, do you hear me? YOU MAKE THEM PAY!” Troy yelled, showing for the first time a warrior's rage in doing so.
Roman gave no reply verbally, though his heart had already committed itself to Troy's words. And as Roman watched his son ride off with Gore, headed to the location of a small ship that would pull them from Ronica and place them into the safety of Huven, the large Husk homeworld, he felt as if the Hunters had taken from him once more.
“We approach my lord, should I have our warriors pull back and scout the area?” one of the Hunter Elites asked, near-blizzard snow falling around them.
“No, ride harder. I grow sick of this cat and mouse game which holds my destiny in the balance. Ride hard and slay quickly!” Vladris demanded as the small, but well-experienced band of undead warriors stormed toward Roman, who stood by himself at the edge of village.
Turning from the entrance of a small building, Pica loosed an arrow that flew as quickly as it killed, hitting an elite in the forehead and fragmenting skull as the demon cried in misery.
“Run them down like cattle and slaughter them as such!” Vladris commanded, jumping down from his mount as the horse remained in full-gallop.
“Now, coward, we finish your journey to the world of ghosts.” Vladris said, his sword pointing at Roman Raines as warriors, both undead and living, fought in the background. Steel clashing against steel with a hellish-fury.
“One would ask which world you live in?” Roman replied, pulling his own blade to the ready. “I know why you fight; what makes you mighty in battle. For I fight for the same reason.”
“All you know of me is what my legend speaks of. A legend which will grow volumes this very day as I sever your skull from its body.” Vladris replied angrily, cleaving a blade strike down that narrowly missed its target.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps you fight for a slain family as I do. A woman maybe?” Roman said, noticing the look in the eyes of Vladris as he spoke the words. “So it is a woman.”
Roman's words were cut short as Vladris came in with a soul-damning flurry of sword strikes, each barely blocked by Roman's own blade, and taking with them respect.
“We are no different Vladris. The Hunters have also taken from me loved ones. It's that very emotional rage which has allowed me to fight the Hunter DNA which runs through my veins.” Roman said, surprising everyone as he then sunk his sword into the ground beside him. “Join us my brother.”
Vladris watched with curiosity as Roman Raines stood unarmed, his hand extended to offer the demon of demons a chance to become brothers in arms.
He also watched the same figure appear, as it did every battle before. The ghost of Amelia walking among them, looking at her truest of champions.
“This warrior is one of truth. He fights for his loved ones, and protects those who cannot protect themselves. He is a very admirable man. Join him.” Amelia's ghost whispered softly.
Vladris stood there, clashing steel becoming a slight background noise as the mighty warrior remained deep in thought. Both the past and the present weighed heavily as he contemplated the future.
“What does your gut tell you to do? Your lover?” Roman asked.
“My lover speaks of you as an admirable warrior. Thinks I should fight beside you in battle,” Vladris replied as Roman began to smile a bit. “Unfortunately for the both of you, my heart has started to love another.” he added.
Just as quickly as Roman realized Sarah Blaine had the affections of Vladris, he pulled the dagger Troy had gifted him and spun low to the ground, a move which allowed him to
escape Vladris' blade while plunging the dagger's steel into the demon's chest.
Vladris staggered back, dropping his sword and trying to pull the small blade from his chest. The shock upon his face told the tale of a demon who had never been struck in battle before. At least not until the day he was turned to the ranks of the immortal.
“You've had your chance and now you must fall, an act which your own legend will speak of.” Roman said, approaching the wounded lion slowly, carrying his sword with a stone-hardened grip.
And as Roman Raines hoisted his blade high, preparing to slay the mighty Vampire of legend, his senses alarmed him with pain. An arrow loosed from the bow of Pica digging through his thick armor and into flesh.
As Roman turned to speak of the misfire, Pica loosed another and another, both shots deliberately eating into the stomach of Roman Raines, who dropped his blade.
“Traitor!” Draden yelled, sprinting over bodies of the dead with a long blade in hand.
The Dragonborn warrior fell quickly, an arrow of cold steel biting into his face, loosed from Pica's bow only feet away.
And so the remaining warriors fell swiftly, leaving only Roman, who had fallen to a knee as life slowly left his body.
“As your soul departs, take with you this. You are by far the toughest warrior I have ever faced,” Vladris said, finally ripping the dagger from his chest, then raising his own blade. “The Hunter archives will speak of you as a legend. This I promise to you my brother.”
Roman nodded, accepting his ticket to the afterlife. He was done, knowing a life of only misery and killing, except for the brief period he spent with his friends, his family, aboard the Gunship crew.
It would be the very faces of that crew, the very personalities of those he had grown to love as family, which he would remain in thought about during his eternal rest.
And the life of Roman Raines would end with a single strike, an arcing sword which severed his head from its body; just as Vladris had promised.
At the close of battle, Vladris placed the head of Roman Raines into a large bag of leather stitching, tightening the knot of rope as he glared to his Hunter soldiers, a single contact of eyes which would grow his legend as immortal.
“I have held my end of the bargain. Now I hope your intentions to hold your end remain true?” Pica asked as he approached Vladris and the remaining Hunters, bow in hand.
“Indeed. You will soon be turned to the ranks of the immortal to fight alongside us as a brother. You have proven your loyalty.”
“Take care warrior, and enjoy your reign of terror. Because it ends soon at the hands of another.” Amelia's ghost said, her words blatantly ignored by Vladris as he mounted his steed of hell once more.
“Now we return to our queen. There is a wedding to take place; a wedding which will unify our people.” Vladris said with a stern voice, as if to dare any Hunter to speak.
“I don't want to leave him behind.” Troy said as Gore began firing up Roman's shuttle, pressing dozens of necessary buttons which illuminated red.
“Roman did not survive. Otherwise, he would have made it back by now. I'm sorry,” Gore said with regret. “But you will be among friends on my homeworld, all of which hate the Hunters.”
Troy began to respond, but as the shuttle slowly lifted from the moist ground, Roman's ghost became visible to the boy.
“Avenge me son.”
As Troy saw those words loose from the lips of such an honorable man, be it from the afterlife, he understood his destiny. Continue building Roman's Empire, and eventually strike against those who have been responsible for so much loss.
“It's alright. Even now, I feel as though Roman is with us.” Troy replied with a smile.
Scucca remained by the side of Troy since their first encounter, just as he had done with Roman Raines. A sight that was rare among hounds of hell. Much more so than the snarling of teeth currently directed toward Gore.
“As do I young warrior. As do I.” Gore replied, casting a stare of dare to the hound before pulling the flight stick harshly as the shuttle went into full-burn and made orbit.
The trees were crisped with rain, as were the blades of grass which led to such a beautiful place. And though their castle was one of murder, torture and devine obedience for the undead, on this very morning it looked perfect.
Sarah Blaine was to wed Vladris, and bring the idea of unity and strength to their people. Hundreds of years had passed since the Hunters were ruled by both king and queen, times spoken of in the archives as the very best among their race.
But the wedding had grown well beyond a simple gesture to unite their people. They both had grown fond of the other in such a short period of time.
Sarah was a compassionate queen, a trait which Vladris respected greatly. She was also both beautiful and comforting to him, bringing with her a soothing calm.
Vladris had become Sarah's champion. She had joined those who truly believed he could not be bested in combat, bringing to her the feeling of safety. She felt at peace around him, which made her transition from human to Vampire much more bearable.
And as they locked eyes at the alter, hundreds of the best warriors the Hunters had looking on, Sarah grinned softly to her champion.
“And should any man or woman object to these two being locked in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold...” the minister said, stopping short as he joined the rest of the crowd, turning to look to the rear of the chapel.
Quickly, both Sarah and Vladris turned as well, determined to end whoever had intruded on such a perfect ceremony.
However, as a man stood to his feet, hooded robe of brown and while; Sarah quickly felt faint. Adam Michaels. Sarah's first true love and former Gunship Captain, removed the hood and smiled.
It was almost as if relative time stopped, the chatter around them non-existent. The only thing that seemed real to her was his glowing smile, the chisel of his chin; and to him, her undeniable beauty.
And though Sarah Blaine was now queen of Vampires, her guards rushing to apprehend her first love, she knew it was only a matter of protocol. She had no intentions of harming him, but rather hearing him out. Why had he arrived, why now? And she wondered if his reasoning even mattered? Because, in the end, Sarah would have another chance to hear the strength of his voice. The ability to look upon him again, which is more than she could have ever dreamed of.
She cared not how he had managed to find his way into such a heavily protected castle, but rather the fact that her life of clarity had just become murky beyond explanation.
As Vladris tried to make sense of the man covered in brown satin, his attention quickly shifted to the ghost of Amelia, who stood at the rear of the chapel. She had never before appeared to him beyond the fields of battle.
But as her lips made out a single word, Vladris felt a chill run across all extremities.
Soon.
Legendary
PROLOGUE
This war has been emotionally draining to say the least. What first began as an infection among the mindless wanderers of the Drifts, soon became the plague of our time.
We didn't realize the truth of things until it was too late. What we had thought mindless zombies, were actually hosts for a small crustacean-like species we've come to know by a single name.
Priests.
By the time our soldiers discovered their ability to control the body of a host by implanting itself into the upper-spine of its victim, we had lost several key battles against the new enemy.
Many heartbreaking losses have led to colonial worlds falling one by one, our new adversary overwhelming us on all fronts. It was the loss of Glimmeria, however, that sent a clear message to those of us in charge.
We are defeated.
Now I must do the unthinkable. Sign a bill that will save our race, while damning so many to their doom. I must announce our defeat to those who remain to listen, and focus not on those who will indeed perish by the stroke of my pen, but on those who will survi
ve because of it.
-Colonial Commander Aaron Ortega.
Ronica
“Adam,” Sarah said with gentleness, approaching the smuggler as he stood, watching the rolling hills before them and feeling as content as ever. “They're ready.”
For seconds which seemed to bleed into eternity, Adam stood silent, pulling every crisp moment into his mind. The world of Ronica simply breathtaking.
“Have you ever just looked out onto the hills? Just to soak them into your memory?” he asked, remaining mesmerized.
“More times than you could ever know. Many nights I have stood on my balcony, listening to the calm of rainfall.” she replied with a hushed tone.
There was a period of several moments, each filled with the vivid of color and rush of cool breeze. As if the smuggler had never slowed to enjoy such things.
“I guess it is starting to sink in,” he said, adjusting his head a bit to watch a small flock of birds soar overhead. “This may be one of the last times I'm able to see such a view.”
“Perhaps,” she replied, studying the worry in his eyes. “They're waiting for you.”
“Of course.” Adam replied, slowly turning.
He did so, of course, as nearly a dozen colonial soldiers held guns onto the queen of vampires. Sarah. Though her personal escort was also nearby, their own weapons at the ready. Their conversation having taken place in the midst of so much nervous firepower.
“I want you to know that I've done all I can do as their queen,” she said, the pair walking slowly into the direction of a large castle which the Hunters had called home for many years. “I've managed to get you an audience with the eldest of vampires, but they will not easily be swayed.” Sarah added.
He dreaded it. A meeting with the race of vampires whose acts were usually unspeakable. The Hunters were vampires in every respect, blood sucking monsters that enjoy feasting on human flesh. Though they often seemed to keep to themselves, it wasn’t unknown for an occasional member of the race to stray from Ronica to begin his or her own agenda elsewhere, resulting in bloodshed among the human population, which only furthered their stereotype as a horrible race.
