Redemption (The Alexa Montgomery Saga)

by H. D. Gordon

  Such a Scene…

  The Sorceress sat on one of the top branches of an old pine tree, legs dangling freely in the air, looking out over the vast whiteness toward the place known as the Silver City. The snow storm allowed only glimpses of its enormous towers, but Surah did not need clear skies to observe the happenings there. She had her Magic.

  It was miserably cold in this land, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why so many people would want to call a place such as this home. The wind this high up slapped harder than an angry mother, making her dark cloak sway and swish and pull her. Her purple eyes were all that were visible beneath her hood, and she stared hard at the glowing orb she had Cast in front of her. She had infused it with a heat spell, and held her hands under it now to steal some of its warmth. Then she Cast a Sight spell, and the warm ball began to perform its primary function, which was not heat, but birds-eye vision.

  She saw the towers that scraped at the night sky, surely leaving scars in the heavens somewhere beyond the clouds, so tall they were. Below them was the city itself and all of its patrons, Wolves and Vampires that had flooded from their snow-covered homes and into the silver-paved streets. Huge Brocken Vampires dressed in all black ringed the edges of the crowd, and seemed to be urging everyone in the same direction. There had to be several thousand of them; men, women, children, all fighting against the snow and the wind to head to some central place.

  The tallest tower. They were moving toward the tallest tower. Their King was getting ready to slaughter them the same way he had in his previous territories, and though the Sorceress felt no connection to these creatures, no allegiance or obligation to them whatsoever, it was an oddly dark thing to be watching, like tuning into some nightmare of a game show where all the contestants were headed into an unspeakable horror, stomach-turning and eyes glued with sick curiosity.

  The image in the orb now showed a figure, smaller than most of those around it, clustered in the crowd with a dark hood covering the head, and Surah could tell just by the lithe movements that it was the Sun Warrior girl. She was moving in through the silver gates that surrounded the tall tower. The tower was where he was, then, and the Sorceress zoomed in on him where he stood on a balcony watching the crowd gather below him, diamonds and rubies that were surely paid for in blood adorning his fingers, his suit, his neck.

  The image changed again. And now she was seeing all white figures with soulless black eyes moving over the snow at the edges of the land, moving like albino beetles scenting a picnic, heading toward the city where all the people were gathered. They had milky white skin and sharks’ teeth that jutted out over red lips, and they were being led by the Sun Warrior’s sister.

  Now the tall tower again, where the thousands of people gathered into the cage made by the silver gates. The King’s Warriors were easy to spot as they towered over most of the crowd around its edges, holding silver swords in their giant hands and shoving at people who had a little lead in their feet. Then the King, shouting something over the crowd, and an almost visible ripple of fear from the people as the silver gates began to swing shut behind them, locking them in.

  Surah could go in any time she wanted. Just a snap of her fingers and she could be on that balcony beside the murderous King, sliding the tips of her Sais through his heart, but she seemed to be frozen in place, thinking that she would go in just a minute, thinking that she would just wait a little longer and see how this played out. After all, the balcony was a terribly public place to take her revenge, and it was never wise to get involved in Vampire politics. And this was just politics. This was war.

  Now the orb showed the Sun Warrior again, her hood sliding off of her head to reveal her beautiful, fearsome face, and her eyes lighting up a brilliant gold as she looked up at the man on the balcony. A chill passed over Surah that had nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with the undeniable murder that burned in the Sun Warrior’s eyes.

  After that, everything happened so fast. The images in the orb seemed to jump and skip and hop over the scene that was taking place within the city in the distance, and the Sorceress could do nothing more than just sit in the cover of the trees and listen to the wind and the sound of her heart picking up in speed. And watch.

  A woman in the crowd spotted the Sun Warrior and screamed, and the gates that the King’s Warriors were sliding closed began to swing faster. Wolves, hundreds of Wolves appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. They tore out of the shadows and raced to the silver gate–long, sharp teeth bared and dripping drool that fell steaming down to the cold snow. A big black Wolf, muscles bunched, eyes rolling, leapt at one of the Warriors closing the gate and tore out his throat with a spray of blood that flew into the air in a shower of scarlet raindrops. More screaming. Panic now. Warriors in all black brandishing swords and turning them on the people nearest them. King William raising his arms on the balcony, like a conductor bringing his orchestra to crescendo. Hoods falling off of the heads of the rebels, flashes of metal and shoves and screaming, screaming, screaming. So much of it that it carried on the cold wind and tinkled in the Sorceress’s ears like funeral bells even from her distance in the trees.

  The King’s army was too thick. They surrounded the people and outnumbered the rebels by thousands. They moved through the crowd like a black death…and from the south, the Sun Warrior’s sister and her Lamia moved over the land like fallen white angels. Above them all, the King still stood, staring down now at the Sun Warrior, where she was cutting a path through his Warriors in her attempt to reach him, her Libra cutting them down right beside her. The Wolves howled at the cloud-hidden moon, snapping their jaws and tearing open flesh that spilled red out onto the snow beneath their paws.

  Red, red, red. So much red.

  The ground seemed to have been rained with it, stark scarlet meeting stark white and steaming as the fluid drenched the snow and went cold. Children cried and people tried to run, only to find that there was nowhere to go; no escape. The battle had begun without preamble, and now that it was in full swing, there was absolutely nowhere to go. They had either to fight, or to die.

  The Sorceress was not aware of it, but her black gloved hand was clasped over her mouth, her warm breath steaming out between the cracks of her fingers as she stared at the orb floating in front of her. Her purple eyes were wide and watery, and she did not try to convince herself that it was the wind that was making the tears spring from her eyes and run coldly down her frigid cheeks. She wanted to stop watching, and once almost lost concentration and broke the spell, but found that she was unable to tear her eyes away, like a rubbernecker passing a particularly devastating scene.

  And in all her twelve-hundred years, Surah had never seen a scene such as this. Not even when the Great War was going on when she had been just a child. Her parents had moved her to safety, and no one would speak of the event for what seemed like centuries, but she was old enough now to have heard the tales, and if the battles of that war were anything like this, she could understand why.

  The worst of it was the people who were caught in between the opposing sides, most of them Searcher Vampires. And the children. Even the children were not immune to the destruction. The King’s Warriors seemed to be cutting down everyone, anyone who got in their way, whereas the rebels were making an effort to just fight off the King’s Warriors. And they were losing. They were too greatly outnumbered—even with the Wolves who were shredding Warriors on the perimeter and being shredded by their silver weapons in return—the rebels at the center of the chaos were too outnumbered.

  And above them all, that bastard of a King still stood.

  But the Sun Warrior had almost reached the front of the tower, moving with a speed and deadliness that Surah had never seen matched. It was no wonder that the Vampires had tried to exterminate her kind. There wasn’t another creature on earth that moved faster. Her silver blade seemed to dance through the air in one continuous movement, drawing blood with every inch. She spun and struck and
never missed a target, her eyes glowing gold and blazing with a fire that burned unfathomably bright for windows of a single soul. Such determination and fearlessness. Against her better judgment, Surah found herself rooting for the Sun Warrior to get her kill. She had never seen anyone who wanted something so bad.

  The rebels were falling. Their bodies and countless others were already scattered about like children’s toys. They lay in heaps in the snow, red seeping out from under them and staining the white-covered earth like spilled bottles of paint, faces frozen perpetually in a state of horror, as if they had no idea what had happened to them, or why. The King’s Warriors seemed to be killing at a rate of ten to one, each one putting a considerable dent in the numbers of the rebels before going down, and killing several other common people in the process. The bodies of the fallen Wolves lay on their sides in the snow, their moans of agony and suffering floating across the land like the cries of wounded angels. The Sorceress’s gloved hands went from covering her mouth to covering her ears, but she was not aware of doing this either.

  She thought if she breathed deeply now, she could smell the blood on the air, like rusted iron placed in a small box, and she wanted to be away from this place; far, far away from this place, but still, she could not move. It was such a scene…

  And it was only just getting started. The Sun Warrior’s sister had reached the edge of the city, and now she was all but flying over the land, heading toward the action. Her pack of Lamia had taken up positions all around the city, just outside of the partially frozen river that ringed around it. They paced back and forth with movements so smooth that their feet seemed to not even be touching the ground. Their heads tilted back, and they tested the air and surely smelled the same thing that Surah did–blood, gallons of it.

  When their high-pitched shrieks rang out across the night, the entire world seemed to shiver beneath the sound. The Sorceress clamped her hands harder over her ears, the hair on the back of her neck frozen stiff, and for the smallest, tiniest moment, even those that were in the heat of battle were struck still.

  The Accursed seemed to cry out their presence for an eternity, like a fork scraping down a cosmically large plate, setting Surah’s teeth on edge. She was not a girl that scared easily, or at all, for that matter, but that noise was so terribly hungry that she found herself readying to leave again, but that orb was still in front of her, and the images it kept showing were as luring as light to a night bug. She had to see the end of the show, no matter how horrifyingly gruesome it may be.

  And now the Accursed girl—Nellianna, her name was—had arrived at the main event. She came skidding to a stop, her innocently pretty face drawing down in horror, hazel eyes growing and growing until they were the size of saucers, her left hand coming up and covering her mouth, and tears rolling down her cheeks as she took it all in. It was a look that was very similar to the one that the Sorceress, who was observing from a far, wore.

  So much red. So much death.

  Young and old, male and female, Wolf and Vampire. So many dead, and the number was growing and growing. At this rate, in under an hour, no one would be left alive.

  The King’s Warriors were an unmerciful force. They had gone from just battling the rebels to killing literally everyone who crossed their paths. They didn’t even have time between one kill and the next to look into the faces of those from whom they were stealing life. They moved like terribly efficient black machines. Their faces dripped blood, their weapons, hands and clothing. And then there was the Sun Warrior.

  She was covered in the most red of all. Drops of it flew off of the cloak she was wearing, which was ripped and torn in several places. It flew from her hair and sword and into the cold air as she spun around and delivered her death blows to Vampires four times her size. She was going to make it. She was going to reach the King and kill him the same as she had the others, even if she died in her efforts.

  It was going to end soon, Surah could tell, and this made a relief flood over her even though she knew that the outcome couldn’t possibly be even worse. So many things were happening at once. So many flashes of images that made up a puzzle that no one would ever want to piece together. Nellianna’s eyes going all black, like ink spilling across paper. The Sun Warrior climbing over the balcony, her Libra right on her heels. The King retreating into the tower, where even more of his Warriors waited, armed and ready to defend him.

  They fell on the Sun Warrior and her Libra like a pack of lions, attacking strategically with their swords and drawing blood in several places while the King retreated to the corner to watch. The Sun Warrior’s glowing eyes never seemed to leave him, even though she was cutting down multiple people at once, and being cut in return. Her Libra was not quite as fast, but he was plenty deadly, and he was giving her just the amount of support she needed to reach the King who now was glancing around him for an exit. The Sun Warrior really would die in her efforts, and by the look on her red-stained face, it was obvious that she didn’t care. She was lost completely to the lust of blood and battle.

  Now there were a lot less living Warriors in the room, but enough still.

  One of them, the one who hadn’t left the King’s side until now, stepped in front of his King and moved so fast that had the Sorceress blinked, she would have missed it, and the blade of his sword went straight through the meat between the Libra’s wide shoulder blades. His golden eyes went dull instantly, and he fell to the floor. Dead.

  The scream that the Sun Warrior let out then could have been heard in the highest points of heaven, and the deepest pits of hell, and it seemed as though everyone in the Silver City stopped what they were doing and listened to it.

  Then the image in the orb was of two heads flying at once.

  One of them belonged to the Warrior that had killed the Sun Warrior’s lover, and the other belonged to the King.

  And it wasn’t over yet. It should have been. Surah knew somewhere inside of her that this should have ended it, but it wasn’t over yet.

  Now the Sun Warrior fell to her knees by her fallen Libra, and waited for the remaining Warriors in the room to finish the deed. With a sinking in her scarred heart, Surah realized that the young girl did not want to fight anymore, maybe could not fight anymore, and in an instant, she too would receive her death, joining her Libra in the afterlife.

  But then the image switched to Nellianna. She shrieked a scream just as blood-curdling as the agony-torn cry of her sister, as though she felt the Sun Warrior’s pain as a physical thing. The Accursed girl, her eyes as dark as the sky above, raised her hands over her head, and Surah watched as she ripped the souls out of the bodies of the Warriors in the room in the tower where her sister waited for her death, and where she would no longer find it.

  This seemed to flip a switch in both girls, and though well over a thousand people had died already, and the King was gone, too. Things went from worse, to worst, to just plain wrong.

  Not remnant nor shred of sanity could be seen in either the Sun Warrior or her sister. Insane. There was no other way to describe it. It was as though they had set free from their leashes some terrible monster that hid inside of them. And those monsters were as efficient at their work as nuclear war machines.

  They worked from their respective ends, killing and killing and killing. The Sun Warrior had leapt from the balcony of the tower and down into the crowd, where she began to slice into pieces every moving thing in her reach. She killed without discretion, showing no remorse while she cut down comrades and enemies and everyone in between. And on the other side of the crowd, her sister was ripping throats and tearing souls free of their vessels the way one might pluck cotton off of a stalk. The ones that she didn’t kill herself she sent over the river with a flick of her thin wrist, forcing the people to walk themselves straight into the arms and jaws of the Lamia waiting there.

  It took longer than it should have for the reality of what was going to happen here to fall over the Sorceress, and when it did, her stomach flipped
up into her throat and bile spewed out of her mouth. Those two girls were lost to their beasts. Too far gone to care about anything at all. Too drunk with bloodlust to be able to pull themselves back together. And together, between the two of them, they weren’t going to leave a single soul alive.

  And then they would kill each other.

  The Sorceress shook her head and the orb died out and disappeared. Now she could only hear the battle in the distance, the sounds of the cursed and the damned and the dying, but the things she had seen would haunt her for as long she would live, and with a snap of her fingers and a splintering heaviness in her heart, she teleported herself away from this cold, dead, forsaken land.

  Alexa

  I was outside myself. I seemed to be watching the whole scene from somewhere beyond, looking down on it with a separation that was dreadfully unnatural. My body was not my own. My movements and actions and thoughts, not my own. And, at the same time, totally my own.

  Red. All I could see was red. It did not ring my vision, but instead filled it and made the world seem to glow slick and sick with it. Things in front of me being torn apart by my blade were nothing more than throbbing, beating, pulsing hearts of red, and their pounding and pumping and pounding and pumping was so loud in my ears that I felt like my head might explode. With each stroke, the noise lessened, and I knew that I would not stop until all was silenced.

  And, oh, the rush it gave me, to be free of the chains that had so long been stretched across my soul, growing tighter around my ankles with each step I’d taken down this road. It had all been leading up to this, had always been leading to this, and it would end the way that I had known it would. Like that dream I’d kept having just after this had all begun, where I ended up on a battlefield of slain soldiers and innocents, the tips of my fingers dripping in red.