Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

by Doug Dandridge

  Screaming his frightful pain, the Vampire Lord ran into the night, his surviving minions on his heels. Another went down, sprayed with liquid from an object in the hands of one of the strangers. Something that looked like one of the stranger’s hand weapons, but didn’t spout fire. And then they were gone into the night, safe from the hellishly effective weapons of the strangers.

  The leader of the vampires sat under a tree, wondering if his eye would heal but seeing no difference as he sat there for over an hour. But the liquid did no further damage, having evaporated away after burning through the Vampire’s skin. He placed his head in his hands, wishing that the pain would go away. He did not know if he would be ordered to attack the strangers again after this defeat. He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that, and wasn’t sure he would have the courage to face that holy power again.

  * * *

  Beate looked out into the night that erupted with fire. Howls and growls and roars echoed, along with screams of rage and horror. The young woman sat there, wondering what was going to happen to her and the people around the fire if something broke through the troops. It went on for hours, the firing dying to nothing, then rising to a new crescendo.

  “Make it stop,” yelled the old woman, holding her hands over her ears. Another woman at the fire ran to her and slid down beside her, putting her arms around the old woman. “Please be quiet, grandma. It will be alright.”

  “It won’t be alright,” cried the old woman. Screaming rose from one of the nearby fires. There was growling, then firing, then the screaming stopped.

  “They must have gotten it,” said one of the men, standing up and walking to the edge of the lighted area.

  “Or it got them,” said another woman.

  Beate was praying that what the man said was true, when a furry shape came flying out of the night to knock the man over. The wolf instantly began to savage the man’s throat, and blood glistened in the firelight, along with the coppery smell.

  The old engineer was immediately in front of the werewolf, his sword held inexpertly to his front. The wolf looked up with a snarl, left his kill, and came padding toward the man. The engineer took a swing and missed, and the wolf was on him in a lunge, knocking him to the ground and pouncing on his chest. The man was able to get his arms around the throat of the beast, keeping the deadly fangs away. But it was apparent to all that the man was fighting a losing battle.

  Beate had gone through different stages of terror in the last four days. First the nuclear blast. Then the attacks by the Orcs and Elves. Then waiting for the moon to come up, and sitting around the fire listening to the terror in the night. This topped them all, seeing a werewolf, a creature of legend, kill people around her fire. She was almost paralyzed with fear. Almost. She knew she had to do something or no one else would. So she pulled the silver dagger from its sheath and ran at the back of the beast before she could change her mind.

  The air went out of the wolf when she landed on its back. Somehow it still found enough air to howl in agony when she plunged the dagger into its back. She pulled the blade out and struck again and again, until the monster flung her off. She landed on her back, looking for the knife that was no longer in her hands. She knew the wolf would land on her in an instant. Instead a hand reached down for her and helped her to her feet.

  The wolf was lying on the ground, its flesh and fur rippling as it changed back to human form. Or, in its case, that of an Orc. The engineer was picking himself off the ground as well. He looked at himself as if he wasn’t sure that he was still alive. Then he looked over at the now Orc and shuddered.

  Beate was at his side in a second, looking him over. “Did it bite you?” she asked, checking his face.

  “I think it got me on the hand,” said the man, holding up a bleeding member.

  “Get me some water,” yelled Beate, glancing over at the woman who had been calming the elderly lady. “And someone heat up that silver knife.”

  “How hot,” said the man who scooped up the knife.

  “Till it glows,” said Beate, accepting the bottle of water and pouring some of it on the engineer’s hand. “Don’t worry,” she said to the engineer. “I made it through first year of nursing school.” She looked at the hand and only saw one cut on the back. “This isn’t too bad.”

  “Does it need stitches?” asked the engineer.

  “No,” said Beate, shaking her head. “This is really going to hurt,” she said, accepting the glowing knife by the hilt.

  “Whoa,” said the engineer. “If it doesn’t need stitches then why are you going to use that?”

  “You were bitten by that creature,” said Beate, feeling the heat of the knife through the hilt. “If I don’t sterilize the wound you will turn into one like him.”

  The middle aged man grimaced. “You learn that in nursing school?”

  “No,” said Beate with a grin. “From the movies.”

  And with that she brought the flat of the knife down on the cut. The man groaned but kept his jaws clamped shut. Snot flew from his nose, and a sizzling sound filled the air. She withdrew the knife and dropped it to the ground.

  “Will that work?” asked the engineer, staring at the welt while someone brought over a first aid kit.

  “I hope so,” said Beate, pulling out some bandages and burn ointment. “I think we had better talk with one of their priests in the morning.”

  “Thank you, Fraulein,” said the engineer. “Now hopefully we won’t have any more excitement this night.”

  The night that passed was the slowest that Beate had ever remembered. She thanked God when the sun rose the next morning, and hoped that she would be in the Refuge before the next full moon.

  Chapter Seven

  There were not enough of the night demons, lycanthropes or vampires, to attack the entire line of the refugee column. They attacked the rear, where the British were just closing up to the rest of the Germans, and the front, where it entered the valley. Vampires had a limited ability to fly, but the lycanthropes did not. Unlike Breggara, most of the other vampires wished to have the werebeasts along with them, so they did not attack the valley itself, but they came down in force from the slopes of the next valley over from the stronghold. The very valley where the three immortals had stationed themselves individually to help meet the onslaught.

  * * *

  Jackie heard the howls rend the night while the first sliver of the full moon broached the hills. Her spine shivered as she thought of the beasts that were making those sounds. In Louisiana, where her grandmother lived, the Cajun peoples still talked of the werewolves that their northern progenitors had passed down tales of. Totally evil, and as strong as the many men, they passed their evil strain down through the wounding of victims. The Elves she had talked to this day, in preparation for the night, stated that the last was not the case on this world. The curse might be passed down, but the inherent good or evil of the victim would ensure what stripe of lycanthrope it was. Still, the thought of being caught in that curse was more than she wanted to face.

  But the young Immortal was well armored and armed, and in much better condition to face the monsters than the ordinary soldiers who were preparing to fight. She glanced to the side at the many young men, wearing borrowed armor and carrying enchanted weaponry, who stood behind her. Most of the rest of the troops and civilians had been sheltered in armored vehicles or fortifications, hopefully out of the reach of the night monsters. But it had been decided by the leaders that they would bring the fight to the monsters, and drive fear into them this night, that they not return.

  “You men, give me room,” she said to her followers. She had taken definite command of the men, even though there were two Captains among them, and she had been a Lieutenant just earlier that day. “I will attack and you keep the flanks clear.”

  The men chorused their affirmatives, most having seen her practicing that day with the twin sabers she carried, and seeing that she had natural talent with the swords. She nodded back
and led the way, jogging through the night, flame sword in her right hand, cold in her left.

  A giant boar raced out of the night, heading straight for her, flanked on either side by a pair of huge wolves. A large bear growled further back. Jackie increased her pace, feeling the strength and speed flowing into her, along with the trace of something she had never experienced. Battle joy. The wish to bring death to her enemies, no matter the cost to herself.

  The Immortal leapt into the air and twisted away from the three hundred pound tusker, her left blade searing a freezing backhand slash across the flank of the beast, her right following on an overhand slice to the back of the creature. The hog squealed as he lost the use of his rear legs and fell skidding to the ground, where a pair of enchanted spears made short work of him.

  One of the wolves slashed with a large paw as he reared onto his hind legs. Jackie tumbled in the air, still not touching the ground, her lithe form somersaulting over the arm. She landed, twisting around as her feet hit the ground, flame sword striking the creature low on the back, cold sword higher up an instant later. The creature howled its agony, trying to turn on its tormentor and receiving a double thrust through its side as it was turning. The beast fell over, a last pant leaving its mouth before it began its change into the corpse of a hominid.

  The other wolf jumped at her as she allowed the weight of the first to pull itself free of her blades. She spun the fire blade in a slash to the left forepaw, severing the appendage and setting the fur of the leg afire. The cold blade went into the chest. She twisted it, pulling it free in an instant and swinging the fire blade back into a shoulder. The chest of the werewolf shattered into frozen pieces while the dead eyes of the beast stared at her in shock.

  The blades complement each other, she thought, running toward the werebear, which reared up on its hind legs and shuffled backwards, aware that death came for it. The young woman jumped into the air, clearing thirty feet of ground, swords leading. The blades entered the chest of the bear, which was too slow in its attempt to swat the woman away. One part of the broad chest blazed, the other froze with crackling sounds, while in between fire and ice battled and steam rose. The bear had almost turned back to an element ravaged human as its body hit the ground.

  * * *

  Kurt’s eyes took in the bright night and the shadowy forms moving through it. They looked human to him, though the stature of some indicated they were of the dwarven race. But they moved differently than most humans. They flitted from shadow to shadow in bursts of speed, and their eyes glowed red in the night.

  He knew the legends of the bloodsuckers on Earth. That they were much stronger than a man. How much stronger? He knew that he had been as strong as two men his size on Earth, and he felt even stronger here. Levine, who was about two third’s Kurt’s weight was possibly a little stronger than the bigger man, and had stated that he grew stronger as the centuries passed. Well it was time to see just how strong he was in comparison to these creatures.

  You don’t have to depend on your strength alone, said the sword he wore on his back, the Paladin God Blade. My strength is yours as well, my liege. Unsheathe me, and let the foul creatures beware.

  Kurt reached back with his large right hand over his left shoulder and grasped the hilt of the sword. He pulled, feeling the bottom of the sheath rise up as the blade slid through it. He pulled down as the sheath rose, until he was loosing the blade from its cover, his offhand coming over to grasp the hilt, his eyes fixed on the blade. The sword shone with a bright light. Not the reflected light of the moon, but an internal light of its holy power. He swung the meter and a half of blade through the night air, feeling an energy flow up the sword and into his body.

  The vampires had seen the light and were starting to head toward him, probably not realizing what it was. He ran at them, the light from the sword growing brighter by the second. The light of the sword struck the leading vampires and they screamed in dismay, recognizing the holy power of the weapon they faced. The nearest clapped his hands over eyes that no longer functioned and stumbled backwards.

  Kurt swept the blade through the body of that Vampire, putting his hips into the swing that cut the creature in half at the waist. The Vampire screamed briefly, a high squealing like a tortured rodent, as the upper body fell away from lower, and both halves burst into a flame that would leave only fine ash in its wake.

  The other vampires turned to run, animal fear moving them away from that which was their doom, the holy energy of the Queen of the Gods of Life. Kurt followed on their heels, moving still faster than the quick moving vampires. He caught one from behind, a slight elfin woman, pushing the blade of the sword through the beast’s back. She screamed into the night as the holy light enveloped her, burning away the unholy force that sustained her. The woman fell forward, white flames covering her form. Bones and parchment like skin hit the ground. The big German stepped over her form, his booted foot coming down to crush the skull. As he ran on the skin and bones turned to dust which swirled into the night wind, leaving only the charred remnants of her clothing to indicate that a humanoid creature had once occupied that spot.

  Kurt swung the sword at the next Vampire, the blade coming down with all his considerable strength into the right shoulder of the large red human male. The blade slashed through collar bone and scapula, through ribs, moving through the chest to exit at the left hip. The upper section slid to the left as the white flames licked at the two halves. Both sections fragmented as they hit the ground and burned into fine ash.

  The quartet of vampires still running from the Immortal finally seemed to get their wits about them, taking off in four different directions. Kurt hesitated for a moment, then took off at a sprint toward the one wearing the, to his eye, finest clothing, figuring it to be the most powerful of the creatures. The Vampire turned on the speed, almost blurring in its velocity, and the German pumped arms and legs, losing ground at first, then gaining as the Vampire went back into normal time. The German knew that though the burst was a strength of the creatures, it was also a limited, as they could only maintain it for a few seconds. Just as the Vampire began to blur once again the German swung his sword, reaching out to the full extension of his arms. The blade hit the side of the neck and sheared through, the head spinning into the air as the body jerked forward with speed, then stumbled to a falling stop of burning flesh that hit and fragmented on the ground. The head finished its own tumble to the ground and shattered on impact.

  The German quickly turned, his head swiveling as he attempted to track the other undead. But they had all disappeared into the night. He could feel the sweat running off of his body despite the cool night air. Still not used to the confining armor that he had only worn for brief hours in the past, instead of carrying it for most of a day, he felt stifled in the undergarments and heavy alloy suit. Tiredness was not a part of it, as he felt that he had the energy to go through the rest of the night at full speed if need be. He still stopped for a moment, remembering Levine’s warning, and drank in deep breaths of cool air to rid himself of some of that built up heat. After a minute of deep breathing he felt that his temperature had returned to normal, and that he was ready to reenter the fight.

  He was about to run to his left, hoping that he might chance upon some more of the monsters, when he became aware of a tingling sensation in his head. This was followed by the awareness that he was being watched. The Immortal turned to his right, his eyes widening at the sight of the elfin priestess, the glint of chain mail visible at the cuffs and collar of her pure white robes. She took her right hand, holding a slender mace, and beat it several times on her left breast, the sound echoing through the night.

  “Well done, my future liege,” she said in broken English, a slight smile on her beautiful face. “You destroyed four of them.”

  “I think anyone equipped with this blade would have been a match for them,” rumbled Kurt back in English. “It was obviously a terror for them. It is probably a waste for me to carry it, as
I am sure I could have combated them with a lesser blade.”

  “But a normal Paladin would not have been able to catch them as they ran,” said the Elf priestess, her face and body faintly glowing in the moonlight. “Your speed and strength were impressive.”

  “And you are?” asked Kurt, giving a slight bow to the Conyastaya woman.

  “Makillia Yoneshine,” she answered, returning the bow after a moment’s hesitation, as if she was unsure of the protocol. “I am a priestess of Arathonia, Goddess of Life. I felt it was right for me to join the hunt. I am thankful that it was vampires at this part of the valley. The lycanthropes are beyond me and my meager strength.”

  “Then I am glad that it was the vampires as well,” said the German, nodding. “And how many did you dispatch with the small weapon.”

  “None with the weapon,” said the priestess, looking down at the small blunt object. “With the power of my goddess, I dispelled three of the beasts.”

  “Which is something that is beyond me,” said Kurt, smiling, as he leaned the blade against his torso and pulled his helm from his head. He studied her face for a moment as he tucked the helm under his left arm and grasped the hilt of the two hander with his right. “And what was the remark about future liege?” he asked, his eyes glancing for a moment at the surrounding night.

  [Do you speak in this manner,] she thought. Kurt picked up the powerful transmission and nodded his head.

  [It is somewhat strange to me,] thought the man, sending back to her as he had with Levine earlier in the day. [I’m still not sure how well I am doing this.]

  [But it is not something that is done on your world,] thought the woman, a smile on her face. [But so many of your people seem to have the spark in their minds. I have touched so many today who did not know that they had the ability.]