Blood of the Fallen

by Jeff Gunzel

  “Yes, of course I do,” Xavier replied, his own grin catching the ghatin off guard. That wasn’t how humans were supposed to react. They were supposed to scream and cry, to drop to their knees and beg for their lives. They hadn’t actually accounted for a human who had already come to terms with his own demise. The threat of death was supposed to drive humans to the brink of madness, not amuse them.

  “You’ve come to purge the humans from this town, and eventually, the entire realm.” The ghatin said nothing, still wondering why this lone human had not yet fled in terror. “But if your objective is to destroy all the humans, it all starts with killing one.” Xavier flexed his fingers, his eyes flashing. “I ask that you allow me the honor!”

  Snapping his hands with a whipping motion, a bloom of steel spiraled through the air. Twisting like a giant tornado, the silver spiral ripped through the ghatins’ front line. White bodies vaporized on contact, instantly turning them to dust. Normal weapons would have passed straight through them, but Xavier’s special alloy-dipped blades had at least some effect. He was able to break them down for short periods of time, but they always came back. Because they were immortal by nearly any standard, Xavier’s only plan was to fight until they overwhelmed him.

  It was to be his last stand. A soldier’s death. An honorable death he would welcome with open arms, embracing it like a long-lost lover.

  Charging through the fray with reckless abandon, Xavier leaped over the first piles of dust to rush the back line. They would reform soon enough and he would have to deal with them again. But for now, it was all about taking out the immediate threats. Daggers spinning around him, obeying the puppet master’s every command, he sent them out wide to strike down the ghatins flanking from both sides. His survival instinct screaming in the back of his mind, it urged him to utilize at least some sort of tactic before he succumbed to his fate. Don’t make it this easy for them. Don’t embrace death so quickly, for it will come soon enough.

  But a wild fury had already taken over his body. No longer fearing death, he was committed to throwing everything behind his reckless attack. Having caught them completely off guard, it seemed to be working so far.

  Xavier ducked and spun as slashing flesh blades whistled past his body, each one seeming to miss its mark by mere inches. Not bothering to block or parry, Xavier kept pushing his offensive onslaught to take out as many as possible. They would get him sooner or later, so why even bother defending? His flashing daggers streaked and slashed, nearly all of them finding a home in white flesh before the beings burst into dust. With each blade appearing to attack independently, it was like having ten trained soldiers fighting at his side.

  Spinning and striking, ducking and rolling beneath flesh blades, Xavier’s confidence began to soar. In showing no fear in his wild assault, he had become a juggernaut of sorts. The ghatins were the most dangerous foe he had ever faced, an immortal race that just kept coming no matter what. But they were largely unskilled, amateurs when it came to battle tactics or working as a team. Xavier’s skill and pinpoint precision were starting to wear them down. Sure, their powdered bodies were reassembling, but not as fast as he was cutting them down.

  Perhaps lady luck would smile on him this day. If his endurance could hold, he just might force them back. They might give up and go in search of easier prey. He could...

  White-hot pain exploded through the back of his leg. Stunned by the blow, his leg buckled under his own weight. A second blast of pain rattled up his thigh when the blade ripped free, sending his head spinning with nausea. The hit was clean and his leg was ruined. With two gaping slashes from where the flesh blade had gone straight through the meat of his thigh, he couldn’t possibly put any weight on it.

  Hopping on one leg, his heart sank like a stone. But this had always been the plan. This was the only way this battle could have ended, wasn’t it? It had only been a matter of time before they gained the upper hand. He had lasted longer than anyone could have expected. So why did it bother him so?

  Somewhere during his furious assault lined with moderate success, his heart had played the cruelest joke imaginable. It gave him hope. He was ready to die, willing to die. But that too was a lie, one he had convinced himself of only to ease the inevitable. He was going to die at the hands of the ghatins, but he didn’t want to. It shamed him to face his true feelings, the feelings of a coward, especially since it wouldn’t change the outcome anyway.

  Xavier roared, a desperate, primal release of emotion. Almost completely immobilized, all he could do was unleash everything he had left. Fingers flicking in mini spasms, his blades whirled about with blinding speed. No longer was he trying to take out individual enemies with pinpoint eye shots. Instead, his blades had become a living dome, a savage blur of whistling steel meant to shred anything that got too close. It was a last-ditch effort to survive this encounter as long as he could.

  Ghatins closed in all around, surrounding the vibrating dome. Already knowing that he couldn’t kill them, at least not permanently, a few rushed fearlessly into the whirling blades. And although their bodies ripped into dust, the force was enough to disrupt the dome for a second or two. Xavier tensed, feeling the pressure radiate down into his twitching fingers. It took enough concentration just to keep the blades in motion without the added strain.

  Flesh blades pierced the dome, each one shattering like glass against the whirling steel. More white bodies threw themselves against it, and those that had already turned to dust were starting to reassemble. It was a never-ending cycle driven by a tireless enemy. How much longer could he cheat death? Sweat pouring down his face, his leg throbbing in agony, his quickly numbing fingers began to falter.

  Xavier caught a white flash from the corner of his eye. For all he knew he was probably losing consciousness and his mind was playing tricks. Two more flashes zipped by, each one leaving behind a white, ghostly trail. One ghatin fell away from the dome, his body convulsing violently with a white dagger protruding from his chest. It shrieked, an earsplitting screech that could have shattered glass. The glowing white dagger faded away like smoke, but the wound kept expanding. The charred black ring spread across its chest as parts of its body bubbled like hot tar. Moments later, the ghatin had melted into a steaming pile of black and white pulp.

  Whatever it was that had hit it was far more effective than Xavier’s weapons. In fact, unless it were to reshape as the others had, it was almost certainly dead. Yes, it was dead! Something was killing them.

  As numbness rode all the way up into his shoulders, Xavier simply couldn’t maintain the bladed dome any longer. The whirling daggers slowed. What was once a quivering shield of transparent silver now looked more like a series of individual daggers zipping around. They were still moving plenty fast, but you could actually see them now. More importantly, they now moved slow enough to be avoided.

  Two more white bolts zipped past, each striking a separate ghatin with the same result. Shrieking in pain, they fell back as the energy daggers seemed to dissolve them from the inside out like acid. Unable to maintain the daggers’ momentum, Xavier’s weary arms fell to his side. Exhausted, he dropped to his knees. Unable to do any more, he glanced back to the source of those energy bolts. But what he saw was impossible. Assirra? There stood the tall tarrin with white daggers drifting in a circle above her head. Ghostly faces appeared and disappeared all around her, their different expressions varying wildly before vanishing into thin air. What was she doing? Why was she here?

  Another blast of pain exploded through the back of his shoulder. He looked down to the white tip protruding from the front of his shoulder. Trying to move that arm only sent waves of agony rippling through his body. Already on one leg, now reduced to one arm, his body had become useless. He couldn’t slay a rabbit in this condition, let alone any more of these creatures. With a weakened grip, he clutched the protruding point with his good hand and made a feeble effort to remove it. But he didn’t have the strength, or the ability to withstand the pai
n.

  His heart racing, he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. He didn’t want to die here, not now, not like this. This couldn’t be his destiny. These demons were loose on the world, and he needed to find a way to stop them. How could he have been so selfish? Die with honor? No, that was a coward’s way out. A way to justify the end to his depression and suffering. With renewed strength and effort, he gripped the point again and slammed it back through the other side of the wound. His heard beat like a hammer on stone. Odd that he could be so aware of such a thing at a time like this. It was almost distracting. He rose up on his feet, his leg able to support his weight somehow.

  His heart was a hammer! Was he dying? He could feel each pounding thump in his temples, his neck. But he couldn’t think straight. Everything spun around him as his world spiraled away in a sea of white. Once coherent thoughts were morphing into something chaotic and reckless. They became urges more than thoughts, shapeless primal needs, desires. Anger... Hate... Aggression...

  With his once ruined arm he punched the ground, his tentacle-like hand drilling through the hard ground as easily as a blade cuts air. Erupting from the ground several feet away, the viney brown strands wrapped a nearby ghatin, squeezing his body until it burst into a cloud of white dust. Howling like a wolf, Xavier ripped his withered, shapeless arm from the ground in a spray of rocks and dirt. Driven by an insatiable bloodlust, the beast charged straight into the white wall. Ignoring the flesh blades piercing his body, the animal ripped and tore, his withered brown whips slicing two or three at a time with each pass.

  “Xavier,” Assirra whispered to herself, trying not to lose her concentration as she watched the change happen right before her eyes. It was difficult given the situation, but she had to stay focused. What just happened to Xavier? What had he become? But she couldn’t afford to be distracted by it. If the link to her power were to break, she might not get it back in time. And with enemies all around, losing her power now would prove disastrous at the very least. It was time to put her new abilities to the test.

  All around her, ghostly faces flashed into existence before folding in on themselves. Like a drop of milk dripped into black tea, they rolled and distorted before disappearing altogether. Assirra pulled in their energy, voraciously absorbing it. Her trained body was not a fragile vase for holding water, but an iron cauldron durable enough to hold molten lava. Filled to the point of bursting, she pulled in even more as the ghatins advanced, their flesh blades snapping into form in preparation for dealing with this most annoying tarrin.

  Hands held high, her hair danced about in the breezeless air. White spheres formed above her head, circling around as if hung up on strings. They split in half, forming new ones of equal size before they too split. Doubling and doubling again, the shiny white orbs spun in a wide circle, each one picking up speed as even more were being formed. Two hundred, four hundred, Assirra’s body trembled from the effort and extreme concentration.

  The ghatins stopped their advance and watched uneasily. They had already gotten a taste of what this creature could do, and this time she was commanding many more of these energy objects. Sweat running down her face, body quivering, she whirled around and snapped her hands in a whipping motion. Like a school of startled fish, the spheres darted away towards the white men. Elongating in midair, they stretched out to form glowing daggers. In a streaking wave of sparkling white, they washed over the ghatins, many getting run through by ten or more. But even those who got struck by just one met the same fate.

  Many of the blades ripped clean through their bodies, even striking others standing behind them. But the clean wounds reacted immediately in the form of smoldering black skin. Whether they were hit between the eyes or a non-vital body part, the dead’s energy proved to be utterly toxic to the ghatins. Neither was from this world, and in essence they cancelled each other out.

  Of the handful who didn’t get hit, they decided quickly that they wanted no part of this shadow mage. Until now, except against the lerwicks, they believed they were immortal against all other races. They were wrong. The few that remained slipped away, silently disappearing into the night.

  Exhaustion hitting like a boulder, Assirra dropped to her hands and knees. Her vision was blurred and she couldn’t catch her breath. Clothes damp with sweat, she began to crawl towards Xavier, who was also lying on the ground a short ways away. She stopped crawling long enough to throw up right there in the street. After a third round, she began to wonder if the sickness would ever stop. Her body was so taxed that it took some serious effort not to pass out.

  Slowly, her body began to strengthen again. Recovering just enough, she crawled the rest of the way to Xavier. He was alive but unconscious. Strangely, his grievous wounds had formed thick scabs. They weren’t completely healed, but they were no longer life-threatening either. Even his most recent wounds didn’t seem too bad. Somehow, his body must have regenerated when in that form. She had so many questions, but for now she was just glad to see her friend safe.

  * * *

  Xavier began to stir. Eyes half open, he groaned weakly. “Xavier, you have to get up.” Startled by the voice, his eyes snapped open. Kneeling, Assirra was looking down on him with his head resting on her lap.

  “Oh, my head,” he muttered, bringing a hand up to his forehead. The endless throbbing made him want to close his eyes again.

  “No,” Assirra scolded, giving her knee a mild shake to perk him back up. “I can’t claim to know how you’re feeling, but we cannot rest here. You need to get up right now.” Alarmed by her unusually demanding tone, he slowly sat up to look around. They were surrounded, not by ghatins but by the villagers, angry villagers wielding pitchforks, shovels and torches. “Neither of us are welcome here. We must leave right now.” Xavier realized she must have been guarding him the whole time while he was unconscious. How long had she been risking her own neck for him? Minutes? Hours?

  “What is this about?” Xavier shouted, rising to his feet. He swooned, head spinning before nearly falling back down. He shouldn’t have been able to stand at all, but his leg and shoulder were far better off than they should have been. Save for the dizziness, he could walk well enough. “We saved your town! You would all be dead if it weren’t for us.”

  “They wouldn’t have come at all if it weren’t for you,” one villager said, leveling his shovel to point right at Xavier. “We saw what you did. We saw what you are, demon.”

  “Demon?” Xavier replied. Looking past the man’s shoulder, he saw Lindsey leaning up against the side of the tavern. She made eye contact briefly, then dropped her eyes and scurried back into the tavern. His heart sank. It was only a fleeting glance, but that look all but verified the man’s claim. Xavier sighed, nodding his agreement. “Demon,” he repeated softly to himself.

  “Their fear of us is the only reason we haven’t been lynched yet,” Assirra said. “But I believe they might be growing bolder by the minute. We have to move. Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.” Xavier nodded. Eyeing the angry villagers, it became obvious to him that Assirra was the only reason he was still alive. Not only had she shown up just in time to save his skin from the ghatins, but if the villagers really believed he was a demon, they likely would have slit his throat while he was unconscious. He took one last look at the tavern, knowing he would probably never see it or Lindsey again. “I’m ready. Let’s just get out of here.”

  Chapter 17

  Using a long stick, Xavier poked and prodded at the fire. Assirra watched him closely, still not certain whether or not his mind was where it should be. As far as she could tell, he didn’t look unstable or dangerous in any way. Just sad and withdrawn. She wanted to help him but had no idea how. “You mean you really don’t remember anything?” she asked, breaking the long silence with the same question she had already asked several times already. He shook his head, continuing to poke the fire that needed no poking. “Xavier, I just want to help you. Remember, I am here for you.”

 
; “I’m not sure anyone can help me,” he said, his vacant gaze a thousand miles away. It wasn’t even clear if he was answering her or just thinking out loud.

  “You shouldn’t say such things,” Assirra was quick to point out. “Your friends care about you, and I have no doubt that they are as worried about you as I was. Whatever is happening to you, we will find a solution. All of us together. You are not alone. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

  Xavier scoffed, giving the fire a hard poke that sent a whirl of sparks spiraling into the air. “My friends care about me?” he muttered. “And why should any of them still have faith in me? I failed them all! I failed,” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “I failed Viola. She is dead because of me.”

  Assirra flashed him a sharp look, slowly rising to her feet. “Dead? What makes you think she is dead?”

  “Because I saw her die! I saw it in a—” In a what? A dream? A vision? How was he supposed to explain that? “Because, because I failed to protect her. I saw it. Because I—”

  “Xavier, Viola is very much alive,” she said gently. He stopped poking the fire and froze, his arm outstretched with the stick still in hand. It was like he wasn’t even aware he was holding it anymore. He glanced back at her, his eyes filled with life for the first time in what seemed like forever. “Yes, Xavier, she is alive,” Assirra repeated, assuring him he had heard correctly. “Furthermore, she is up in the mountains with the others. The only way you will have failed her is if you do not come with me. She needs you, Xavier. She needs us both, and that’s where I’m going, with or without you.”

  Nearly half a minute passed and Xavier still had not moved. She is alive? He finally let go of the stick and dropped to his knees as a sharp rush of air expelled from his lungs. “She is alive?!” he gasped, apparently having not heard anything else she said.