The Blood War: Part I

10 years on, people remember the bloodshed. They remember the flash of swords, the screams of the living and the silence of the dead. They remember the soldiers giving their lives, and the generals using them like pieces in their play.

Three of Zaharia’s brood boxed in Prince Hector and lunged at him in unison, but the nobleman ducked and weaved around them. Each one felt the sting of his blade pierce their skulls. He hadn’t broken a sweat, same as his younger brother Cassius who was like a chainsaw. He rushed from soldier to soldier, leaving them in pieces and laughing hysterically as he did it.

Seeing both take down handfuls of his men with ease, Zaharia ordered his two strongest warriors to face their enemy’s command. Geraldo obliged, taking his apprentice with him and facing the Lord.

“Hm? What’s this? Another bloodbreath with a hard-on for my brother?” Cassius called as he unsheathed his blade from his previous victim. He blocked the road to Hector. “Apologies boys he doesn’t really swing that way. But I can play with you if you like? I’m not picky like him” he mocked. Geraldo snorted but retained his focus. “Oh, now that is a problem, you aren’t exactly my type.” Geraldo retorted and Cassius cackled loudly, “I’m sure I can convince ya. After all…” Cassius drew short daggers from his hip, holding both in one hand and his long sword in the other. His grin caught in the moonlight was monstrous enough that even his own men could confuse him for the enemy. “I’m dying to see what your insides look like!”

Amongst the carnage, Zaharia was trying to set up a second line of soldiers yet the constant flow of foes put him in the throes of blows. He managed to duck under the first sword and tuck in past the next, all whilst pulling the second blade around to slice into his first attacker and heel kick the oncoming third. Once he’d sent number 3 across the courtyard he twisted the arm he was still holding that belonged to number 2 then slammed him down into the rocks below.

Still more challenged him and he noticed he had been nicked by the first wave despite being certain he evaded it, to be struggling this early left him worried. He drew his blade, styled like a spike that extended from his sleeve. Facing him was a line of 5 soldiers, and one on his flank he didn’t see coming. That one connected hilt to helmet and Zaharia was knocked off his feet. He couldn’t do anything to stop the oncoming attack, bracing for pain.

But he was saved. Glass shards shot out from the ground and impaled the 6 men. Selik was completely drained after it, his skin was ash white and his veins threatened to rip through his skin. He could barely lift a finger and was panting heavily, another soldier targeted him as an easy kill but Zaharia managed to return the favour. Although he soon dropped to a knee, panting heavily and bleeding just above the eye. “Get yourself out Selik, you’re no use to me dead.”

The mage barely moved, “I’m afraid we’re past that now sir. I believe escape is no longer a possibility for any of us.”

The two watched the carnage unfold as they tried to catch their breath, watching the Nightshade’s prime warrior mow down human after human. Zaharia was terrified. Not only by the warriors wanting his head, but also for the creatures they were becoming, the chaos they were causing.

“Horrible, isn’t it.” The mage spoke. “Seeing people you loved change into animals. Makes you wonder if any of it was worth it.”

“Of course it’s not worth it. But we’re fighting to protect, they brought this chaos.”

“Not that. Makes you wonder if life has any meaning.” Old man Selik was withering away as he spoke, and his leader struggled to find a response. “We will not be safe no matter where we go or how well we hide, Zaharia. It doesn’t matter how many of our family die today, the survivors will be hunted down as long as they live. It is our destiny as the cursed.”

Zaharia was quiet, hoping that he could find a future in his mind where they could all live happily but it was just a dream. It was a fleeting hope that he could not find no matter how much he tried to pretend. It made him bitter, hearing it all laid out like that, being forced to look at reality.

Still, he had that hope. “No.” Selik’s ears perked up. “If it’s not us, it will be or children, or their children after that. This curse is a chain that binds us down. And one day, someone will come along and break the cycle.”

“We will be cured.”

The old man let the words resonate, the hope left a pained grin on his face. “Let’s hope so, Zaharia.”

The surveillance, the barrier, the attack spells… it had all become too much for the old timer. His magic had dried, and he turned to dust.

*-*-*

For what felt like an unending nightmare, the fight had only begun an hour ago. So much bloodshed in such a short time.

And while the commanders took on trials of their own, it was the smaller soldiers that changed the tides.

One of the brood found an axe buried deep in its neck before it died. The axe belonging to a warrior of Grimoire. “Sofia!”

She struggled when pulling the axe out, panicking that it would take too long and she’d be attacked from behind. She let go of the handle and spun quick as she could, unsheathing the knife from her back and swinging it violently. It was blocked by a fellow soldier of Grimoire. “Careful.” He said. She went back to trying to retrieve her axe. “Why are we here? Was it not enough supplying the weapons, now we’re the ones swinging them.” She sounded agitated, it was understandable. Their forces had dwindled quickly, only around 30 remained and their advantage over the vampires was all but gone. She managed to dislodge the axe and fell to the ground, when she went to stand again he held out his hand to her.

“It’s our people these monsters murder, it’s our people that never get to see their loved ones again. And it’s our job to protect them” He gently placed his hands on her gently. But she pushed them away abruptly. “It’s not our job to die for them, Lucian.” She sheathed her blade, so much blood and sinew pooled on it that when it slid down it was oozing out the top. Sofia was done, quickly walking towards the end of the corridor.

“Sofia this is stupid! Think of the kids!” Her husband called out. She turned back without stopping, “I’m going home, Lucian. If you want to give up your family for this then by all means but I will not leave them!”

While she was talking, there was something moving ahead of her. It was crawling on the roof above and noticed her approach. Sofia hadn’t seen it, after all she was looking at her husband. But Lucian noticed, however, he was already too late.

“SOFIA!”

In the moment of weakness a Nightshade took his chance and crept from the darkness. His rusted sickle was stained red, his eyes were filled with nothing more than the need to kill. Lucian reacted too slow.

At the same time, Zaharia was up against the world. Selik was gone and there was no end to the forces ahead. His movements were growing slower and light, his cuts were shallow and his body was quickly running out of time. Still he was better than the ones that tried to end him.

The next wave attacked in pairs but even that wasn’t enough. The first two decided to pincer the tired vampire, only for their downwards swings to be deflected and both to feel the sting of his blade. The second pair kept their distance, hoping to chip away at him. Zaharia disarmed one then lodged his sword into his chest and then dodge the other attack, managing to bite into his throat.

After that, the sight of a monster that refused to die with blood pouring from its mouth… the soldiers lost their courage. While this was good news, Zaharia knew he couldn’t last much longer. He needed to hold out. He needed to give Fiore the time he needed to save everyone.

…

Whilst he was certain that only the men in front of him remained, he felt a strange sensation. It was more painful than anything he had ever experienced, emanating from his leg. The pain was powerful enough to take him off his feet and scream in agony.

When he looked to try and figure out what was causing it he found a blade had gone completely through his thigh, the hilt stopping it from slicing further. But they had defeated everyone else, who did the sword belong to?

He soon realised the sword he had been skewered with was that of a royal. The royal. His eye wandered and sure enough, they were stood behind him.

Prince Hector himself.