“You…kill…horde!” the ogre bellowed in broken Zulu.
There was no room to negotiate, as he swung his massive club, propelling a car into a team of impi, who were crushed instantly.
I scanned the battlefield and saw a man wearing a copper assegai medal on his lapel. A veteran, at least. His badge represented a feathered headdress, like one that his ancestors would have warn into combat.
I dodged shrapnel sent up from the ogre destroying a shack, before sprinting towards the officer.
“Spread out!” he yelled. “Minimise losses!”
I caught his eye. I saw a spark of recognition but didn’t let him speak.
“Quickly! Get your men to trip the ogre up. We have to get him low to the ground.”
“Wait…you’re a Blood Hunter? Rebel!” he spat.
“And?” I replied, drawing my pistols but staring at the ogre.
The officer hesitated but, after glancing at the carnage, nodded.
“After he’s down, stay clear. I’ll handle him.”
Without another word, I sprinted towards the ogre. Impi almost jumped, seeing me run up from behind them. The officer ordered them to stop firing. Without fear of bullets hitting me from behind, I charged the hulking beast in front of me.
Closer up, I could see tears streaming down the ogre’s face. There was some blood running down his pale grey skin, but his thick armoured plate had blocked the bullets from hitting anything vital.
The ogre charged another armoured car, flinging it towards a shebeen where it crashed through the roof.
The ogre bellowed in frustration, as I rounded it and caught its eyes. For a second. That’s all I needed. I snapped off two shots, hitting the ogre in an eye. Its eyeball burst and it screamed, clutching its face with one hand before arcing its club towards me. But, with its new lack of depth perception, I was able to dodge out of the way.
The ogre roared and charged. I didn’t waste time aiming and firing. I had its attention already. I let it come close, before using the delay of it lifting the cannon club over its head to slip underneath it. The shockwave on the ground after its hit almost made me lose my balance. Almost.
I regained my footing in time to dodge its massive foot as it kicked towards me. The gust of air the giant kick made was almost enough to topple me too.
Where were those damn impi?
“Die!” the ogre screamed, smacking the butt of its cannon towards me like a spear. That almost hit me!
I rolled to safety and lifted myself up just in time to see a horde of impi carrying a long, thick metal cable.
“On my sig…” I yelled but was cut off. My body felt like it was being squeezed in a vice grip. It might as well be, as the ogre had dropped its cannon and lifted me up in its massive callused hands.
“Revenge! Honour!” the ogre bellowed, as if chanting in its broken Zulu. I couldn’t breathe as the creature squeezed me. Tighter, tighter…
With a war cry, the impis collided with the ogre, moving in unison to tie the cable around the creature’s legs. With a triumphant bellow, the impi pulled together, bringing the ogre down onto its knees.
I grinned, and the ogre looked at me, incredulous. Its grip had weakened.
“Thank you,” I said in Xhosa. “For bringing me close to your face.”
I flicked the switches on my sticky bomb and tossed it into the ogre’s open mouth. Shocked, the ogre dropped me, and I scattered, calling for the impis to flee.
We just got behind cover as we heard the thud of ogre bone and flesh shatter and cover the village with its guts.
It was over fast. After the explosion ended, I looked up to confirm that the ogre was now headless, slumped on the sandy ground.
I sighed, relieved. That was before I realised, I was surrounded. None of the impi aimed their rifles at me, but they were shocked.
I heard engines in the distance. Armoured cars. Trucks. Reinforcements.
The impi recognised my clothing. And they didn’t need to. Any non-impi carrying explosives and guns was a rebel. Safe assumption.
The officer from earlier shoved through the circle and faced me. I hadn’t realised it before. But I did now. He was older. More exhausted. And he had haunted eyes. But it was Dlamini. The impi from my village, who had betrayed us.
He held a pistol. Mine. My heart skipped a beat, before he handed it to me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, before the circle of impi opened up, and let me disappear into the wilderness.
Chapter 22. No Good Act…
The rebel leadership of this cell, at least, was present in the secret base when I arrived. Themba looked up at me expectantly, his eyes concerned at the dust and blood on my skin and outfit. I had travelled straight from the encampment. No breaks.
“Guy! What happened?” he exclaimed, sending for one of the rebels to get me water.
I slumped down in a chair, possibly looted from an impi office. I was alive, but my body ached from being manhandled by the ogre and then rushing back to base on a less than comfortable bike.
I gained back some of my breath and answered, simply. “An ogre attacked the village.”
“Village? What village? Did you not make it to the impi encampment?”
“The encampment was a village. Yes, there were impi there. But also people. Our people. Xhosa.”
I was handed a glass of water, but I didn’t drink.
“What happened?” Themba asked.
“An ogre attacked the village. The impi tried to fend it off. They tried to defend the villagers. But they didn’t know how. I did.”
Silence. The implication was clear.
Themba looked shocked. “You…you helped them?”
I shrugged. “Of course, I did. The monster was destroying people’s homes. Killing them!”
“But it was killing impi…” a rebel added.
Themba nodded. “It could have done the work for us. An ogre could decimate an entire company if they aren’t prepared. What possessed you to side with our enemies, cousin?!”
I frowned. I hadn’t expected this. At all.
“The impi were stockpiling arms, but nothing heavy. It was an occupied village. That is all. And they were dying to save civilians.”
I felt an uncomfortable energy in the room as rebels milled around me.
“Did…” Themba began, voice menacingly low. “They see you?”
“They did. But they let me go.”
A rebel stood up suddenly, knocking over his chair.
“Were you tailed?!”
I glanced at him, offended. “There was nothing but open fields and hills for hours of my journey. And they were not in any shape to follow me. I don’t even think they saw me get on my bike.”
Themba whispered something to a rebel carrying an Ak. The rebel scampered off, dripping anxiety.
Themba considered me. Slowly. He mulled over his response, keeping the room silent.
Finally, he spoke. Evenly. Calmly. But most of all, impersonally.
“You made a mistake. You let the impi know we were scouting the base. They will be ready for an attack or further scouts. You risked them tailing you to our base of operations, and more than all that, you sabotaged an opportunity to wipe out an enemy company…”
“And an entire village with them!” I yelled. Graham popped into existence from shock. Some rebels backed away. Themba stared at me. He shook his head, sadly.
“And it would have been a worthy trade. To see our enemies fall, we must make sacrifices. To free this land, there will be martyrs.”
“Those people…” I hissed. “Are not a part of this fight, Themba. They are innocents in all of this!”
“They are with us or against us!” Themba yelled back, hitting the table and spilling water from the glass.
I stood up, calmly, and turned my back on the rebels. Nobody said a word. I left, quietly. No one stopped me.
A face flickered across my vision. A bloodied, youthful impi. The truck driver, but also Sifiso. Blendi
ng into one.
I mounted my bike and drove. I had no destination in particular. Nothing but the need to put distance between myself and my cousin.
With us or against us.
Wind buffeted against me as I embraced the open dirt roads of the Transkei highlands. I sped, as fast as I could, kicking up dust and rocks. I kept accelerating. Faster, and faster.
The impi took everything from me. But Sifiso had been my friend. And Dlamini…he let me go. There had been sadness in his eyes. Immeasurable guilt.
I rounded a hill, breaking just slightly to maintain control.
A worthy sacrifice.
“How many people have to die?” I asked myself, voice muffled by the wind and engines.
I smelled burning flesh and rubber. Mqanduli. Villages torn apart by vampires. Raided by impi. Yet…
I skidded to a halt, stopping parallel to a ridgeline.
I took off my helmet and discarded it onto the ground. I parked my bike and shambled to the ridgeline.
Transkei…my home. It had always been my home. And, perhaps, Themba was right to fight for it.
But…the land didn’t matter.
The impi had laid down their lives to save my people.
I slumped down and sat on the edge, letting my legs hang loose.
Graham appeared. I didn’t know he had kept up. Perhaps, he didn’t need to. I was practically haunted. In a way, that comforted me. And knowing that Graham was here filled me with a sense of solace.
Strange that a demon had probably become my best friend.
Graham had an almost empty bottle of beer and a cigarette in his mouth. He couldn’t fabricate tobacco, so this had to be stolen.
“This is the problem with humans,” he said. It was the type of thing he would say usually, but it was not said in the same mocking tone. He sounded…sad.
“You all try to do so much good…but then go too far. And no matter how saintly you become, there is no good act that goes unpunished.”
I let Graham’s words sink in, slowly, as I watched the wisps of smoke dissipate into the breeze.
“Was…am I wrong?”
“You’re going to need to be more specific. In general, mortals are always wrong.”
“About…everything. Should I have become a Blood Hunter? Should I have sworn revenge against vampires? Was I right to fight the Empire? And did…did I have a right to kill that boy?”
Graham took a long drag.
“Demons…” he began, contemplatively. “Are simple.”
I snorted, and he shoved me. Lightly.
“Humans have so many emotions in them. So many convictions. And they’re all in conflict. You cry when you are happy. You laugh when you are traumatised. And you value life above all. Then you take it.”
“And what do demons do?”
“We just…are. I am the essence of some aspect of creation. I don’t know which. But I know that I am. And I know what I am. I know that when I feel, it is something straightforward. Something consistent. But with humans…it’s different.”
He offered me a cigarette. Seemed he had taken the whole box. I accepted.
“I have been observing your kind for a while now,” he continued. “And what I have seen is a race of contradictions. I have seen anger lead to love. I have seen greed save people. And I have seen life taken, so it can be protected.”
He tossed his beer bottle over the edge. I didn’t hear it smash.
“Humans are contradiction. Accept it. But you must pick which side matters more. You can exist in flux your entire life. But, eventually, you have to act. And when you act, do it with your entire being.”
The sun was setting. Graham had materialised another beer and was swigging it in silence.
In the beginning, it had been simple.
Vampires. Impi. They had taken everything from me. But nothing was simple. Impi had saved me. They had hunted me. I killed them. And I saved them.
Did I fight for revenge?
For Mqanduli?
Perhaps. But then why did I not feel fire in my belly and rage in my heart when I thought of the soldiers who had sacked my home?
Perhaps, it was because they were human. And humans made mistakes, they fought for the wrong side. They killed innocents.
But, they could be redeemed.
At least…I hoped so.
I opened my eyes, wide, as it dawned on me. Why I did this. Why I did everything. And why it all mattered.
It wasn’t about revenge. Not even against the vampires. Taking revenge against a vampire was like promising vengeance against a rabid dog.
Vampires were monsters. They couldn’t help it.
And that’s why I had to hunt them all down.
It wasn’t about hatred. It wasn’t about freedom for a country that hadn’t existed for hundreds of years.
It was about saving people. All people.
I could do that.
I stood up and Graham ate his cigarette butt and discarded another beer bottle over the hill. This one did smash.
“So, you sorted everything out, eh?”
I smiled. “I think so.”
Graham nodded and held his fist out towards me. I leant down and pounded it. Graham smiled back. And it wasn’t mischievous, or at anyone’s expense.
“Let’s go back. I need to tell Themba exactly where I stand.”
Graham teleported to the back of my motorcycle and I rode in the darkness back towards the rebel base. The air was cool and refreshing but, as I approached, I slowed down.
A new scent in the air. Fire.
I sped up, diverting from the usual road and towards another nearby hill.
Most of the rebel cell had been in the base when I left. They were preparing for another big operation. But, most of all, Themba was there.
I bit my lip, drawing blood, as I sped into the darkness. As the stench of burning increased and an orange hue annexed the sky, I left my bike in the shadows and continued on foot.
As I crested the hill, I saw the rebel base. And it was burning.
Part 3
Chapter 23. Goes unpunished
I froze as smoke spiralled into the sky. The outlying buildings surrounding the rebel base were aflame. Firebombs. And, highlighted by the boiling hue, were dark figures. Some stood up straight, carrying rifles with bayonets fixed. I could already picture blood dripping off the blades. But it wasn’t these impi silhouettes that caused me to hold my breath.
Moving in packs, staggering and sniffing like beasts. Humanoid in all but behaviour.
Ghouls.
And that meant: vampires.
Did I do this? Did I lead the enemy back to our base?
Themba…
I was running down the hill, sticking to the shadows as much as I could, before I even realised it. Graham would usually call me insane now. And, perhaps I was. But my demonic friend stayed silent as I charged towards the inferno.
I slowed down as I reached the bottom of the hill. The roar of the flames covered the sound of my footfalls. I hid behind a brick wall, its thatch roof already collapsed.
A crack of a rifle. I winced.
Not Themba!
I risked a peek around the corner. The flames illuminated the courtyard of the homestead in a flickering, angry shade. Two armoured troop carriers called buffels. Impi cowhide crests painted on the side. Did I expect anything else?
But buffel was telling. Ten impi in the back. Two up front. More if they hung off the sides. That meant approximately twenty four impi and ghouls. But how many vampires?
A boot crunched a branch behind me, and I turned. An impi looked at me, stunned. For a dreadful moment, we stared at one another. He opened his mouth. But no sound came out as I drove Blessing’s knife into his throat. He gargled for a few moments, and then lay still.
It was dark, and the firelight played tricks on the eyes, but I would remember his face.
I picked up the impi’s rifle and sneaked in the direction he had been coming from. Slowly. I
peeked around the corner and pulled back suddenly. Multiple ghouls. Sniffing the air. I heard a gut-wrenching rip and tear. No scream. Already a corpse. Small mercies.
I risked looking. The ghouls were luckily distracted by their meal. I didn’t recognise the now mangled face of the corpse, but I knew that Hope City leather jacket, with pseudo-Scout patches. He’d been a rebel. And now he was dead. The courtyard was littered with more dead. Spent shells reflected the light as they lay strewn across the sand and grass.
How would we ever recover from this? And how could I face my cousin after luring them here?
My hands clenched more tightly on my rifle.
No! I would face my cousin. Because if I couldn’t…
I pushed the thought way down. Themba had failed to die once already. He could do it again.
An impi, wearing the regalia of a lieutenant, exited the main base that, while aflame, was still surviving the brunt of the inferno. The ghouls had moved on and I rounded the building, crouching down to watch him.
He approached the passenger door of one of the buffels and saluted, stiffly.
My heart stopped as the door opened.
A figure not of authority, but of complete and utter primal terror. Yet, he looked human. All except for red eyes.
Nkosi Igazi…the Lord of the Blood.
The vampire lord exited the buffel but didn’t allow the lieutenant to go at ease. The lieutenant held the pose as Nkosi Igazi surveyed the burning homestead.
Rage filled me.
This…thing…had taken everything from me. He had burnt Mqanduli to the ground. He had turned my people into cattle!
And he stood here now. So close…
I felt something pulling me from behind and realised I had started edging closer and closer to the vampire, paying no heed to the impi now milling about the courtyard. Graham pulled me back completely, but I was still close enough to hear as Nkosi Igazi released the lieutenant from his pose.
“Report,” he remarked, casually. As if he was strolling in the park.
“Yes, Lord. We are still tallying the rebel dead. But there is no more resistance or hold-outs. We just need to retrieve our dead and…”
“Leave them…”
“Excuse me…?”
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