A Rising Storm (Tainted Blood Book 4)

by Jeff Gunzel

  * * *

  “Lucilla, you have to stop!” Alaric ordered, needing all his strength to keep her restrained. Male lerwicks were considerably stronger than their female counterparts, so her shocking display of power was strange indeed. He truly didn’t think he could hold on much longer. “Lucilla you have to listen to me. I need you to fight it. You hear me? You must resist and come back to us!”

  Thrashing from side to side, her head lashed out like a snake, teeth snapping again and again as she kept trying to bite him. Keeping her shoulders pinned, Alaric leaned back as far as he could to avoid her biting attempts. But in doing so, he relieved just enough pressure off her shoulders so that she was able to sit up. She lunged, reversing their positions and landing right on top of him.

  Her teeth snapped with a click, growling with a savage expression he had never seen on anyone, let alone his friend. Pushing up on her lower jaw, Alaric tipped his head to the side in order to create just a little more distance between them. Every inch was becoming crucial. “Lucilla! Please, don’t you recognize me?” he begged as her snapping mouth moved ever closer. Saliva dripped from her lips in long, thin strands. Crazed, she extended her tongue just far enough to flick his cheek. Arms trembling with tension, he couldn’t hold... Couldn’t...

  A blurring wind rushed up to them just before a heavy boot slammed Lucilla’s face. The hard blow sent her tumbling, and she nearly went over the cliff. Reorienting herself with a shake of her head, she focused on Jarlen and hissed like a snake. There was no part of Lucilla that could be recognized at this point. She truly was an animal. Down on all fours, she charged towards him like a rabid dog.

  Jarlen dropped what he was holding and sidestepped the clumsy charge. A bloody horse’s head hit the ground, the spinal cord hanging out like a tail. Her savage need overriding her anger, she went right for the head and began to drink. Tipping it back like a bowl, she drank greedily from the open neck as blood ran down the sides of her cheeks.

  Seeing her begin to calm down, the blood rage subsiding somewhat, Jarlen threw the other item he was holding at Alaric’s feet. “Drink,” he ordered, eyeing the lower portion of a horse leg. It wouldn’t contain as much blood as the head and neck, but even a few sips could help keep the thirst at bay temporarily.

  “But why?” Alaric protested. “I don’t need—”

  “Drink!” Jarlen ordered again, his tone leaving little room for bargaining. “I won’t have this happen again. If it does, to either of you, I’ll kill you myself.” Alaric glanced back at him in confusion, but did as he was told.

  Once Lucilla was recovered, they continued on without another word about the incident. Lucilla felt weak and shaky, but still able to walk. She and Alaric took up the rear, walking side by side while Jarlen led the way. Feeling Alaric’s eyes on her, she glanced over only to see him quickly shy away. It was impossible to hide how uncomfortable he was, even around his old friend. He had never seen her like that, or anyone like that, for that matter. She had actually tried to kill him, and now everyone was just pretending that it didn’t happen! How was he ever going to forget such a thing?

  “I think we’re getting close,” Jarlen said, holding the map up as he walked the narrowing path. If it got any narrower they would soon be walking sideways just to keep from falling over the edge. With the winds picking up, the fluttering map was under constant threat of flying away. “Once we go just around that corner, I think we will be—” No longer hearing footsteps, he turned back to see what was going on. Alaric was watching Lucilla as tears streamed down her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, eyes wide with her hands covering her mouth. “I swear that wasn’t me back there. I couldn’t control myself.”

  “We know,” Jarlen said, throwing his hands up in the air, exasperated. He didn’t have time for any blubbering apologies. Apparently she was only now beginning to come to terms with what had happened.

  “It was like someone else was controlling me!”

  “We know! You were gripped by the thirst and had no control over your own actions. Now can we keep moving?”

  “The what?” Alaric asked, his gaze bouncing back and forth between the two.

  “The thirst,” Jarlen repeated, watching Alaric’s expression carefully. He was obviously confused. Now it was starting to make sense. Alaric’s confusion, Lucilla’s genuine terror from losing all control. Could it be? “You two have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” They shook their heads. “How is that possible? How can neither of you be aware of an affliction you were born with?”

  “How do you know about it?” Alaric asked, his ignorance making Jarlen want to rip him in half.

  “Because I’m a lerwick!” Jarlen shouted, his voice echoing through the mountains. “We are all born with the thirst. It is our curse! Its severity varies from one to the next, but it’s always there. It’s triggered by a lack of blood.” His mind drifted back to the days of torture used to help cure him of the thirst. His world had been a living hell at that time. Those endless weeks of torment had changed him forever. How could they not be aware of the very thing that caused him to suffer so?

  “It’s never happened to me before,” Alaric said.

  “Me neither,” Lucilla whimpered, her lips still quivering with fright.

  “Fascinating,” Jarlen whispered to himself, his anger suddenly replaced with genuine curiosity. It seemed impossible, but they clearly had no idea what the thirst was. The only way one would not be aware of their own limits was if those limits had never been tested before. How could they have made it this long without ever dealing with the thirst?

  “I have a question for you Lucilla,” Jarlen said, pointing at her. “Do you recall anything of your days before living with this human master you speak so highly of?” Her jaw dropped as she stood there speechless. “I see,” Jarlen said, her expression more than answering his question. “And you?” he asked, pointing to Alaric. His lack of response was no different than hers. Just a blank expression that dug up more questions than answers.

  Thinking, Jarlen paced while tapping a finger on his chin. He knew of a serum that helped control the thirst, but it was quite rare. Obviously neither of them were using it. That left only one true explanation. These two had been carefully cared for and given the proper amount of blood to keep the thirst at bay since day one. There was no trial and error, no searching for nourishment in the wild before stumbling across their eventual masters. Like farm animals, they had been raised since the very beginning, provided with a safe, nurturing environment that they never questioned. It was all they ever knew. They were more like pets than free-thinking individuals. Clearly this was the first time they had been on their own. Were they runaways?

  “Fascinating,” Jarlen repeated to himself. So many questions, but they would have to wait. “Very well, then. We will talk more on the subject later. But for now we better keep moving.”

  They continued on down the path until it narrowed inward to around a foot in width or so. Of course, it seemed even narrower than that, given the drop they constantly had to look down on. Backs pressed against the stone, they inched their way around the bend. Every so often, a toe or heel shuffled a rock over the side. Swallowed up by darkness, it seemed to take forever before they finally heard it clack at the bottom. No one cared to guess how far the drop was. Best not to think about it.

  Jarlen reached under his shirt to retrieve the map again, trying to determine their whereabouts while keeping his back pressed flat against the cliff. It snapped and fluttered in his hands. The winds had really picked up, and it was even getting hard to speak over them. “I think it’s just on the other side,” he shouted over the rushing wind. But when he released one side of the map to point, it fluttered rapidly in his remaining hand before tearing away. Alaric was just able to reach out and touch it with his fingertips when it whipped past him. With Jarlen still holding a ripped piece of the parchment, they watched it spiral into the blackness below.

  “We don’t
need it,” Jarlen was quick to assure them, tossing the piece in his hand. “I know it’s right over there. Come on.” With little-to-no room to move, he shifted his weight to the backs of his heels, then pushed off the cliff with as much momentum as he could muster. The jump itself was feeble, given the lack of leverage he had to work with, but he shifted form immediately and spun across the cavern in a blurring funnel of black. Shortly after he landed on the ledge, two more funnels settled down beside him.

  “This way,” Jarlen said, speaking quietly as if they were trying to sneak up on something. Following his lead, the others tiptoed behind him until they came upon a large boulder in the middle of the path. Peeking around it, they saw two men standing guard at the mouth of a cave. Men? No... Even from this distance they could see their white hair. No, not men. Lerwicks!

  “I don’t believe it,” Jarlen said, shaking his head before needing to take a second look. “You two were right all along. This place is real.”

  “Of course we were,” Alaric said, unable to contain the excitement in his voice. “We’ve found it! At last, a safe place to call home. No more running. No more hiding.” He nearly started running towards the cave before Jarlen snatched him by the back of his cloak. “Hey!” he protested, falling backward.

  “Wait,” Jarlen said simply.

  “Wait for what?” Lucilla asked.

  Jarlen glanced back over his shoulder at her. “You really are a trusting one, aren’t you?”

  “And you don’t trust anyone, do you?”

  Jarlen jerked back to face her directly. “No, I don’t,” he confirmed with a growl. “And it’s the only reason I’ve survived this long. Trust is for fools who feel that being accepted is somehow more important than living. After all the times this world has tried, and failed, to break me, I’ll be damned if I’m going to walk right into a trap. We know nothing about those who live there.” He turned back and continued to scout the guards. “Trust no one. If you learn nothing else from me, let that be the one lesson that sticks.”

  “I think it is you who needs a life’s lesson, Jarlen!” Lucilla said. Jarlen spun back again, dismayed by her boldness. “You were correct about what you said before. The world is changing. But it is the people like you who will be left behind, not me or Alaric. You want to sit here and hide behind rocks, hating the whole world while feeling sorry for yourself, then go ahead. No one is stopping you!”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?!”

  “A coward!” she replied. “That’s who. A coward who is determined to see danger wherever he looks, whether or not it’s real. You say we know nothing about the folk living in that cave. So what? Haven’t we feared our own shadows long enough? We’ve found our people! What more do you want? Oh, the world is changing, all right, and it’s for the better even if you’re too blind to see it. We will reach out to the humans and let them know we’re here and mean them no harm. Our race will know peace and acceptance for the first time. That’s the future I see!

  “All you want to do is start a war with the humans so you can exact your revenge on an entire race, all because the actions of a few. Well, Alaric and I will play no part in your madness. The way I see it, you have two choices. You can come with us now and join the new world, or go off on your own and spend your remaining days hiding in the shadows. We don’t care which one you choose.” She looked to her partner. “Come on, Alaric. We’re going in with or without him.”

  “Right,” Alaric agreed as the two joined hands and stepped out from behind the boulder. “All this running and hiding will finally be just a thing of the past. Our kind will finally know peace. The humans will accept us and—”

  Suddenly, his body jolted in place and his legs went numb. Confused, disoriented, he glanced down to see a foreign object protruding from his belly. He looked up slowly, his eyes meeting Lucilla’s. Her eyes bulging with horror, a line of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. She too had a similar object sticking out from her chest.

  “I believe there might be a third choice you did not consider,” Jarlen said, retracting his flesh blades. The two lerwicks dropped to their knees. The world darkening all around, they looked up to see Jarlen looming over them, his hands covered with their blood. “Please understand, I do plan to play an integral role in this changing world of ours, but I will not start by extending a hand in friendship to my enemies.”

  “W-Why?” Lucilla groaned, two bloody hands clasped over her stomach. She coughed, spraying speckles of blood across the stone.

  “Consider your deaths a mercy. A sheep will never befriend a wolf, no matter how much he wishes it so. Such an alliance can only end one way. You, my friends, are sheep. You are meant to be hunted, slaughtered. Believe me, better to die by my hand than to become a plaything for the humans.” Grabbing the backs of their hoods, Jarlen dragged them both back to the edge of the cliff. Alaric muttered something he didn’t quite catch. It didn’t matter. Cold, unfeeling, he tossed them both over the edge. Without even enough energy to scream, they plunged into the darkness.

  Jarlen had killed hundreds of people, but this felt different somehow. Such a waste, he thought. They had potential. He had hoped that at least one of them might understand who the real enemy was. Killing other lerwicks was not something he relished, but he wouldn’t hesitate if it served to make a point. Everyone would have to pull their own weight in the new world. Everyone would need to know who was in charge and that his authority was absolute. Lerwick or not, he would not be questioned again.

  He would be the one to lead the lerwicks against the humans. And any who didn’t feel the same was a traitor. The choice is simple. Follow me or die.

  Hood low, face shrouded in darkness, Jarlen stepped around from behind the boulder and approached the two standing guards. Startled, they fumbled about at their sides, reaching for blades they clearly had no idea how to use. Jarlen drew back his hood and lifted his hands in the air, a piece of parchment fluttering between two fingers on one hand. They recognized it for what it was. So far, everyone who had made it this far was in possession of that same message.

  “Welcome, friend!” one of the guards said, flashing a disarming smile. Jarlen smiled back. “You must have had a long, hard journey. Follow me and I’ll—” He stopped in midsentence, noticing the fresh blood on Jarlen’s hands. “Um... Are you alone?”

  “Who is in charge here?” Jarlen asked.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “As did I.” Jarlen kept his hands up, but the two guards began fingering the hilts of their swords.

  “Orm’rak,” the second guard replied nervously. Since being assigned to this post, he had seen many different responses from those who had come here seeking refuge. Some cried when they realized they weren’t along in this cold world. Others were timid and scared, not knowing what to make of this strange place. But this man was different. Confident, calculating, everything about him just seemed...dangerous. “Orm’rak is our commander. In fact, I think it might be best if I go get him before we let you inside.”

  “He was your commander,” Jarlen said, calm and composed while making the casual threat. Perhaps he didn’t even see it as a threat. He was simply stating a fact. “Regardless, I want you to take me to him. He is now relieved of his duty.”

  Both drew their blades, backing away several steps. “I don’t know what you’re planning here,” the first guard said, “but you had best get it out of your mind. Your aggression won’t be tolerated.”

  Jarlen rolled his eyes. He had heard enough defiance for one day. “You will tolerate exactly what I tell you to.” His arms flashed forward, flesh blades crisscrossing like a pair of scissors. Blood splattered the stone as the guard’s head separated from his body. “Or you will join him,” Jarlen added, now talking to the only one still alive. “Do I make myself clear?” The guard dropped his sword and bobbed his head incessantly. “Good, now take me to your former commander. Change begins immediately.”

  The guard turned about and l
ed Jarlen into the cave. But once inside, he zipped away as fast as could. Expecting as much, Jarlen didn’t bother giving chase. Let him spread the word. Fear was a tool he knew exactly how to use.

  Faces looked up, heads turning as the guard flashed by. What was going on? Then they noticed Jarlen. He moved along slowly with the deadly grace of an assassin. Grins directed at the newcomer soon melted away. Those stony eyes, that unmistakable aura of a killer, even these sheltered beings could sense the hate rolling off this man in waves. He was one of them, that much they could see. Yet he was so different in every other way. He hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even made eye contact, yet they were terrified of him in a most instinctive way.

  Jarlen stopped and turned towards the crowd of lerwicks gathered near the wall. Some had been drinking blood from goblets while others were standing around in groups talking. But now all were looking at him. “Where is this Orm’rak?” he asked, his voice seeming to carry off the stone. “Has he fled from me already? A pity. I would have liked to speak with him before—”

  “He has done no such thing,” Orm’rak said from behind. The guard who had run was standing by his side, but was now inching away. He wanted nothing to do with this. “You’ve traveled a long way just to die, stranger. Before I gut you and wear your skin like a coat, I will grant you one last opportunity to beg for your life. It will do no good, mind you, but I’m sure my loyal subjects would like to see you—” Jarlen turned around, his familiar face sending an icy cold wave of emotion rushing through Orm’rak. “You?” he gasped, doing his best to steel himself in the face of this menace.

  “Yes, me,” Jarlen said, also recognizing this foe from their prior battle. The name had meant nothing to him, but he could now place the face. This was the very same creature who had attacked his sister in the forest before he managed to chase him off. “Well, well, so you’re Orm’rak.” Hands on hips, he began looking around the cave at the mismatched tables and chairs, along with other odds and ends probably stolen from traveling merchants. “Quite brilliant, if I do say so myself,” Jarlen added, nodding his approval. “I must admit, I admire what you’ve built here.”