Bound By Blood

by C. H. Scarlett

  ~Chapter 6~

  When the Blood Calls . . .

  ***

  Will you answer? Will you see?

  Will your true nature rise up and embrace me?

  Will you ascend or will you descend?

  This is just the beginning of a long desired end.

  ***

  “The rain will kill the flames!” Someone amongst the faces of flesh and wolf, yelled.

  "Our enemy is very clever, indeed." Kaléé noted, her silver gaze blazing through the Priestess. "Without light, the Nosophoros is free to attack."

  "Then we must not give in to darkness." Samanthŕa ordered, “Every one of magic and gift join me! We must use our power to keep the fires strong against the rain!” She turned to Kaléé with haste. “They will go for the weaker ones first."

  "The Phãegens," the Vlachŕa noted.

  "They will not stand a chance. Our warriors who can fight must make a circle and put the Moppães in the middle of us. Keep them nearest to the fire.”

  “Samanthŕa, what is going on?” Sameŕald came running with Dezarãe and the rest of their sisters. Poor Keysãe and Jezaŕah were clinging to her in fear. Both were soaked from the rain. The emotions of Morrgãyne and Samaŕah rippled with confusion. Dǒntáe and other warriors from scattered bloodlines were not far behind. Wolves were everywhere.

  But more importantly, the bleak heavy blackness devouring the light was reaching ever so closer from the forest's deep. And from that horrific blanket of terror, the Nosophoros were free to come closer.

  “Prepare yourselves! In a circle now! Inside the stones!” Kaléé shouted, just as a faceless body was snatched from the running crowd and dragged off into the darkness. They could hear the faded sounds of the being’s agonizing screams while the blood soiled the air on the fingers of the wind.

  Kaléé reached for the sisters, joining hands with the Priestess, while others gathered close for the ritual.

  Samanthŕa’s mind was sharp, causing her to come to a very frightening realization. She broke free from Kaléé’s circle long enough to grab Dǒntáe before he could hurry away. “Gather whatever warriors are sober enough to stand and go with Rameŕas. If we can’t keep the fires burning, we are going to have trouble. Keep the Phãegens from panicking and straying off. The Nosophoros will pick them off one by one if they can. We know not what will happen if a Phãegen is bitten or how quickly they can be turned.” Samanthŕa shouted over the noise.

  "You think they can be turned to something more unthinkable?" He raised a disgusted brow.

  "I know not! I know nothing this night. I just know we need to prepare for anything!" She stood up on her tiptoes still not matching his height but enough for him to see her eyes. In a low but stern voice, “If these fires die then there will be nothing to keep away those things in the forest. Understand? I refuse to let any of my blood be a meal to those hideous abominations.”

  “I swear on the warrior within, my Priestess, none of ours shall fall.” His voice was deep with determination. This was good enough for her so she let go of him. She had to make sure he was in the correct frame of mind to face what was about to come. Dǒntáe was one of the experienced warriors. Only he could inspire the other warriors, sober or drunk, young or not, to face what was ahead. Many of the warriors with them were young and had never tasted a battle yet. She had faith in Dǒntáe, though; he would make them treacherous in a matter of seconds.

  Samanthŕa rejoined the circle and looked up towards the stormy skies. The more clouds that formed, the more of their fog unfurled towards the ground, and the more of that which came, the more distance the Nosophoros were able to move.

  So many questions she had concerning this night and all that had happened so far would have to wait. She had fire to summon now. Her eyes closed. Her sacred words joined with those of power who stood beside her:

  “Fire and flame,

  Fierce and untamed!

  Bring forth your furies unto the night!

  Ember and ash!

  Show us your wrath!

  Let nothing weaken your imperious light.

  Water falls by your enemy's call.

  A challenge you must rise and meet.

  Join with air, moisture beware.

  And lay our enemies at our feet.”

  Their power rose up in the form of smoky red light and unleashed itself and its vehemence. The winds came to an abrupt stop as the flames began to swallow them up before they could sweep across the land. Heat lightning flashed murderously and the only sound they heard was the Creatures struggling to find more darkness, retreating. The fires of the circle began to rise forty feet or more. Samanthŕa and the other women looked at each other and began to melt with relief.

  But it was too soon to celebrate. All at once, their power ceased just as abruptly as it began. The rains dumped down upon them like someone tipping a gigantic bucket. The fires fought to strengthen their fury against the rain, but it was of no use. The waters from the sky were too strong and suddenly it became apparent that the hand of power which claimed the new storm had power over them as well. Someone or something was aiding the Nosophoros, just as it took Samanthŕa’s power before when she fled the Tavern and had her first confrontation in the forest. What in all of Hadãe had the power to organize these uncontrollable Creatures?

  Answers to such mysteries would only come too late . . . .

  In massive numbers, the Nosophoros began to leap across the dying flames. Lycãons giant in size, caught the unholy things in mid air by the throats as paws touched ground and they tore and shook them without mercy. With hard clashes of warrior or wolf, they collided as the creature’s vicious screams and cries shattered their ears. They were careful not to draw and swallow the Nosophoros blood. Their blood was like acid. Instead, they shook them until they broke their necks. Their necks were a weakness. Some Lycãons bit too deeply, falling to their backsides--shaking fur and teeth to rid themselves of the acid that tried to destroy their mouths. Their ability to heal raced against the speedy, destructive effects of the blood. If they could heal . . . if . . . .

  The Nosophoros’ numbers were so great that they resembled masses of angry wasps, swarming from every dark, hidden pit of a place. Samanthŕa and the others grabbed whatever weapons they could find to fight them. Like the Lycãons, the Nosophoros fought in packs. Not one, not two attacked you, but even more, grabbing at your legs, arms and whatever else they could lay hold upon. Phãegens screamed, as Samanthŕa’s assumptions were right; the creatures went for them first. They sensed who was weaker and then made a smorgasbord of that.

  Samanthŕa held tightly to the arms of one young woman in a game of tug of war. The Priestess aided in the birth of this one, bouncing the child upon her knee until she was too big to be held. She had blessed the girl into womanhood and would have spoken the words at her Handfasting with another Phãegen male in just another few weeks. That night would never come, as blood splattered against Samanthŕa’s face and dress. The last of what would ever be known of the female ended in screams . . . cries that slashed the Priestess's ears while the Creatures ripped the poor thing in half. Samanthŕa let go, dazed with shock as another pack played leapfrog over the ones gnawing savagely at the Phãegen’s parts, forcing Samanthŕa into the rocks. She swung a long warrior’s sword, slicing them as they tried to tackle her. Their bodies when sliced open spilled black oozing poison onto the sacred ground. The soil revolted, sizzled and collapsed.

  Another jumped her from behind and she made a strong feint to avoid its clamping jaws. Their mouths contained hundreds of venom transferring fangs, snapping and extending outward with frightening speed. The fangs bent inward so that their prey would be locked in. It was the venom which paralyzed you, yet left you feeling everything, feeling them eat you alive.

  From behind the Creature, Dǒntáe swung his sword. His features were slightly changed to that of a large feline as the warrior within surfaced. You could see his beast crying to shift behind his eyes. But a
beast would lack the arms that pulled Samanthŕa up. He forced her behind him, using his body to shield hers while more and more of the monsters came from the darkness.

  “There are too many. I must get you away from here,” he yelled.

  “My sisters…”Samanthŕa said, panicked, “I’ll not leave without them,” but Dǒntáe was given no chance to reply. Instead, more of the Nosophoros hurled themselves towards them.

  “There are too many! To the Lairs!” Kaléé yelled as Lycãons protected her from the crazed feeders. Surrounded by beast, she looked upward towards the caves lining the side of the mountain above, which housed their Lairs. “We will build fires there where the rain cannot touch them. To the Lairs!”

  It was a hope. That’s all. Whatever was causing all this could easily prevent them from making more fires. For the sake of the bloodlines, they still had to try. If all else failed, they could at least fight at one entrance of the cave instead of having their attackers dive for them from all directions.

  Samanthŕa struggled to help Kaléé, but she could not even help herself. Two more tackled her, causing her to fall back upon the sharp edges of the stones. Dǒntáe was pushed in the opposite direction by at least six more hurling down from those stones. She kept trying to call forth her powers but nothing came. She elbowed them off of her and attempted to run them through with her weapon, but one grabbed her sword with its mouth and ran with it. She crawled with haste toward a dagger which had been dropped nearby. Dǒntáe worked his way over to her, slashing and dropping them one by one. It gave her a second to catch her bearings as he jerked her up by the sleeve of her dress that ripped from his grasp. So that she did not fall again, he scooped her up by her waist, clutching her small frame against him while he swung with the other arm at his enemy.

  She saw Dezarãe and Sameŕald fighting off another lethal pack in the distance. Rameŕas was forcing his way towards them and the other sisters. Dǒntáe attempted to leap the fiends slashing for their legs when Samanthŕa’s body was brutally jerked away from his. He was but a shadow underneath the swarm which had him now; Samanthŕa struggled to get out from under them.

  Her dagger ripped and stabbed as she kicked one and hit another. She dodged their blood, as it was like poison to their prey. It moved through the skin taking down their victim the same way their venom did. It took great power to withstand such a weapon, power which she didn’t have, because her power was being drawn from her body as she fought them. It became apparent that whoever or whatever was helping the creatures was feeding off of their own power to do it. The more they fought, the more they raged, the more strength they used against their enemy was in turn feeding their enemy’s master and making that foe stronger.

  Her feet were grabbed from underneath her as her body went down once again, slamming hard into the ground. They were coming from the air, the sides, all over. They were everywhere and it seemed as if the more they slaughtered them, the more came.

  Her breath left her causing her to feel as though she had reached her end when once again silence fell. Even the attacking creatures came to a halt. The rains immediately stopped and a scorching bright light came-- not from the sky, but from the forest. It was so hot and bright that it nearly blinded her. She shielded her eyes, feeling them sting with pain.

  Bodies fell like burning infernos all around. The light was causing their attackers to explode. Somewhat like fireworks they crackled and burst. With her heart racing, she looked up from where she lay, in the muck, the blood, and the mud, only to see seven cloaked figures leap from the forest and into the ruins. Smoke, cinder, and lighted bits of debris and ash fell from the air like snow. It looked like the aftermath of a volcano erupting. The dim of night returned to normal. The light faded as if it were never there. A small bit of fire returned to the Drągýn's mouth. Slowly, there was movement . . .

  Everyone who had survived looked up in complete shock and awe. They rubbed their eyes, trying to focus. The light was just so bright and consuming. None of them had ever seen such power invoked.

  “What in Hadãe?” Dǒntáe asked, shaking the mounds of ashes off his stained chest which was soiled with the remains of death like the rest of them. "Can you stand?" He held his hand out to her.

  Before they could register what had happened, reinforcements spread from the forests like a disease. The rain fell relentlessly again as if nothing had ever happened. Samanthŕa had just managed to get on her feet when she was tackled back down to the ground. Jaws of death snapped in all directions and she jerked her head frantically, trying to avoid them. She heard her sisters’ screams, swords swipe through the air, chaos spreading.

  Samanthŕa lifted a log, beating the things off of her while one even clamped his jaws down on the piece of wood and locked them. She struggled to her feet again, trying to catch sight of her sisters while she wrestled the cursed thing, when once more she was thrown back against the sharp rocks. Her unsteady vision caught a glimpse of the strangers.

  Time froze like it did in the forest.

  All was in slow motion. They threw off their cloaks. The large one was wet from the rain like she was. He was the most gigantic male she had ever seen. She’d noticed this at the Tavern and in the forest, but now for some reason he seemed surreal in size, larger than life. His cold blazing eyes locked with hers; immediately he threw one of his swords, which severed the heads of the two holding her down. She shivered with shock until an odd smile stretched across his chiseled face. Was he amused?

  After tearing herself from his gaze, she looked down to his arm. She saw the reason for his smile now. He held a dagger to his flesh and blood trickled to the ground. The first drop fell. It pounded against her ears like thunder. She could hear her heart rapidly beat. Her senses became ten times stronger. His powerful essence called her entire being to attention. In its third dose--once smeared across the horse, and second by her heal when she grazed his cheek with her boot-- it was even more potent.

  For the first time she felt the tips of her fangs emerge. Hunger. A true obsessive hunger that could not be cooed by fire or element. Shock and horror spread her eyes wide as her fingers went up and touched the peaks of them. A strong, sweet, ambrosia-like scent evaporated from her body.

  Dear Goddess. The Awakening.

  She panicked-- of all the times for it to fall upon her, why now? Then she remembered what woke her up from her dream this night, the word Awaken. She had thought it was dragging her away from her sleep. Now she knew it was just another piece of the puzzle. Just another warning of what would come--the storm, time, the signs, him, and her Awakening.

  The blood may have called her Awakening to attention, but it was also calling the creatures. They left their prey, dropping them like unwanted toys and moved towards him, away from her and her sisters. They left whoever they fought and began to trample towards these men, these warriors, these powerful beings. The blood must have driven them even more insane as they knocked people out of their way to stalk him, to get to his blood. Monsters on all fours, snapping at the rain, starvation pulling at their jaws.

  Her mind raced as she struggled to her feet. Was he willing the creatures to him or was he using his blood to bring the Nosophoros here? Was he like a General calling them to battle? Was he mad?! Was he the one controlling them? Why did his magic work and not hers or even Kaléé’s, who was a Vlachŕa and as ancient as Dĩas?

  Samanthŕa's magic wouldn’t work before in the forest when he was present or outside the Tavern and now, once again she was powerless in his presence. Her thoughts spun. Her heart quickened. Questions trampled questions.

  She tightened her grip on the dagger as anger and hate flashed over her. In her madness and suspicion, she was determined to kill him.

  If he wants to tempt them with his blood then so be it! His blood they shall have! Not Ours!

  She hissed and started to leap towards him. With one strong arm he caught and grabbed her, and spun her around so that her back was against his. His large hand was placed
firmly across her throat. The feeling of fire and flames fled from his fingertips and into her flesh. Electricity moved through his body into hers. The tingling sensations brought forth her fangs again . . . even further from their hidden nest. She struggled against him, she wasn’t sure how but she was struggling, as more and more Nosophoros came out of the shadows. The blood was making them fanatical, not to mention what it was doing to her.

  She heard another of the strangers yell, “That’s all of them, brother! No more hiding in the forests!”

  She heard Dezarãe and her other sisters scream her name. Scream for her safety. They did not scream because they were concerned that this stranger had her in a death lock. They were screaming because of what was charging towards her, stalking her.

  Samanthŕa stopped struggling and was frozen. The anger left her once her mind registered what was going on. Nosophoros paced back and forth, to her eyes and the high from his blood seeming in slow motion, as if teasing them with their coming deaths. They were becoming highly intoxicated by his essence and its scent rising up into the air. The very same blood was far too close to her senses for what she, herself, was comfortable with. His was a powerful blood, an essence which was invoking the first signs of her Awakening-- and her beast, which for the first time started to scream out in thirst and hunger. Her mind swam. Die by the Nosophoros or have her Awakening invoked? Either fate was bad as far as she was concerned.

  Still, her mouth watered and her body melted into his. How delicious his essence smelt. How warm and embracing it seemed. It felt so welcoming and familiar even though she had not once sensed blood like this. Not once had any essence called out to her. It was so sweet, so intoxicating, it was ambrosia. The vapors of it possessed her senses with such euphoria. A part of her struggled to fight it while the other part wanted more, needed more, would claw out his eyes to have more.

  Death would be better. Let them take me. Let them. It’s better than the doom which hangs over my head and dooms my sisters, she thought.