Tower of Ancients

by Jaeger Mitchells

  Crozan’s soldiers stood all around me, frozen in terror, unable to breathe. Most of them dropped their weapons and sank down to their knees. Some tried to flee while others had no idea what to do.

  “What? You expect mercy?” I hissed. One man, brave or foolish enough, tried to charge me, but stumbled over his own feet and crashed into me. I grabbed his forehead with one hand and, putting my other hand to his mouth, ripped out his lower jaw with ease. Fucking scum. All of them deserved to die.

  I looked around at the still mostly frozen bunch of idiots and got annoyed. Low rumbling laughter rose from my throat, followed by a battle cry as loud as thunder. I jumped the busiest group and ripped into them, drinking more blood than I possibly should after such a long abstinence.

  Wounds I hadn’t even noticed started closing as the infantry around me finally dispersed, running in all directions. Limbs were left scattered around the front gate as the second battle group moved up to reinforce their comrades falling back. Their officers knew very well that they had no chance against me, not in this life, and not in the next one. Finally, having bought some time, I decided to go in after looking around one last time.

  In three short strides, I was up and over the wall, landing softly on my feet on the other side where a group of ten soldiers stood in formation, waiting for the gate to be breached. They held their shields up and swords at the ready. I chuckled, seeing their stunned visages. They hadn’t run. No, they stood their ground and waited to counterattack when the gate went down. My face must have been a welcome sight from their stunned looks and elated cheers.

  “I’m proud of you! I’m proud of everyone one of you fighting for our people! You’re real men and women and you deserve the praise!”

  The archers above chimed in and roared out between arrow shots.

  “My Lord! You came for us!”

  I nodded, not willing to tell them the truth that I’d had no idea what was going on and had returned on a whim.

  “I did, soldier. Now, where is Grestal? Tell me,” I replied calmly, though weariness creased my features. I was a Vampire, but even I could tire during a prolonged battle.

  “Lord Raziel!” the man replied with a frown. “He is—well, I don't rightly know. There was some fighting towards the square. He said he’d be there most likely. Maybe you can check for yourself, as we continue to hold the line?”

  I nodded. “Stay here and keep watch.”

  “We will sir, but why did they do this? We never—.”

  “It’s personal, soldier. A vendetta between me and the King. If we survive this, we won’t be allowed to live here any longer. That’s all I can tell you, for now.”

  “My Lord! Thank you! We will follow no matter where you go!”

  I nodded again and turned to check on the situation at the gate once more, then sheathed my sword and sprinted off in the direction of the town square, praying to whatever deity would listen that Grestal and my lover yet lived.

  Chapter Ten

  The sisters stood frozen like the stone gargoyles atop Vanadis castle as they stared down at the unfolding horror. A third and then a fourth barrage of flaming arrows arced towards the town, setting flame to even more buildings, setting flame to whatever they touched.

  Most of the arrows, however, bounced off a layer of—air? Sylvana glanced down at her hand, only then noticing she’d unconsciously cast a spell of protection to keep the town from being engulfed in flames. Every flaming arrow that landed atop the hay thatch of the cottages and larger homes immediately started a blaze that soon killed everyone who was still inside.

  “He is here,” a familiar voice whispered from behind. Her blood ran cold as Crozan leaned in and clamped his hand down on her right shoulder, squeezing hard enough to nearly break her bones. “And I saw that spell you just cast. Even if it was a reflex,” he snarled, “don’t do it again.”

  Sylvana gasped in pain as he kept on pressing, jerking her head in confirmation.

  “Who is here? And please, stop hurting her!” Helena begged, “Don’t you need her for the fight?” She debated interfering in hopes he’d let go of her sister but subconsciously knew he could kill the two of them then and there.

  “Raziel, of course!” he sneered, shoving Sylvana down and to the side as if he was a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “Who else would be worthy of my time? Besides the two of you, of course, tonight.”

  Crozan stepped between the two sisters and clasped them to his sides, pressing their bodies against his. He traced his fingers down their thighs as his tongue stuck out slightly, tracing over his lips.

  “I see,” Sylvana replied, voice barely audible. She struggled to prevent herself from succumbing to the shakes, both from fury and terror, that threatened to overcome her. Just how had things come to this? The Elven race had been strong and proud, and to be brought so low was worse than humiliating.

  “Though unfortunate, I will have to take care of him personally. Otherwise, the other Lords and Ladies might look down on me. Now, come my little Elves. Join me in the hunt of the century!” he laughed like a madman as he pushed them aside. A magnificent pair of white wings sprouted from his back just before he shot up into the sky and disappeared into the distance.

  Both were left speechless and just stood there dumbfounded.

  “What the hell was that just now?” Sylvana whispered.

  “I have no idea. This is a travesty. How can a Vampire possess Fay wings?”

  “I don’t know, but we better hurry up or we just might be next on his shit list.”

  The sisters looked at each other and shrugged. They really didn’t have a choice, at least for now. What’s more, if they didn’t obey the Vampire Lord, Lefrand’s law gave him the right to execute them on the spot. Not that he needed a law to back him up.

  “Raziel,” Sylvana mouthed.

  Helena's eyes grew wide after a long second passed, finally understanding her sister’s plans. She sighed and shook her head.

  “Alright, sister. We’re dead anyway. It seems they planned to dig three graves today, not just one from what I can see.”

  “That was the plan all along. The bastards!” Sylvana hissed. “Will you follow me and do whatever I tell you?” Sylvana asked, her eyes pleading with her sister.

  “Why not?” Helena sighed and shrugged, “I’d rather go down fighting with you beside me than die alone somewhere in a ditch.”

  “Do you remember the raid on Deresd?” Sylvana asked, her demeanor shifting a hundred and eighty degrees.

  “No! Don't tell me you want to do something like that. It would be too good to come true!”

  “It could work, you never know. How about it?” Helena laughed and jumped up and down excitedly.

  Memories of that remote keep, Deresd, brought back a fond smile. They had tricked Crozan, then, and almost killed him. Putting him in a bad situation, where he was forced to choose between his own life and that of his subordinate, a Vampire lover whom he held so dear. Unfortunately, he selfishly chose his own life over hers being the trash that he was. From that moment, everything had changed between them. He’d been hunting them ever since, mostly indirectly.

  Screams of the dying and the clash of steel against steel drew their attention back to the situation at hand. On their far-right flank, some foe attacked a group of archers and their guards, while a group of cavalry ravaged an even larger formation on the left flank.

  The sisters looked on in disbelief at how efficiently Raziel dealt with the archers and infantry. Though it was difficult to see every detail at that distance, it looked like he lost control, ripping through the soldiers, drinking their blood, and enjoying himself. The stabs and cuts that he ignored barely seemed to wound him and didn't slow the Vampire Lord down in the least. No, the futile blows seemed to bounce off his body for some reason. They couldn’t believe their eyes, but moments later, the area around the gate was clear of Crozan’s soldiers.

  “We need to move and stay close to them. See, he’s going tow
ards the Eastern entrance while Crozan just entered at the center, landing over that wall over there.”

  “We’ll stick to the shadows and observe,” Helena replied as she moved forward.

  Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw Raziel take on the second formation of soldiers and then put down another pig they hated, Crozan’s nephew.

  “Do you think he has a—never mind.”

  The bastard died before they could even close the distance to the palisade. Raziel jumped over the wall and disappeared, leaving the sisters with a bitter taste in their mouths. They had no idea where he would go once inside, only a hunch. Whoever secured the town or city square usually won the battle. If nothing else, Crozan would execute people there for his enjoyment.

  Realization slammed into Sylvana who froze as she leaned against the wall. Helena noticed and stopped, returning to face her sister.

  “What the hell are you stopping for?”

  “Deresd, it’s happening again, today,” Sylvana whispered. “Crozan’s planning to kill Raziel’s woman.”

  “Shit! You’re right,” Helena cursed. She stood there and murmured something Sylvana didn’t quite catch. It didn’t matter in the least whatever she had to say as today was going to be one dark day.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. We need to hurry!”

  “I’m coming, no need to pull me! Geez!”

  “Yeah, well, you’re slow. But really, Crozan is a sadist. Why would he go to such lengths over a girl? He could have everyone here killed with ease, ordering his underlings to carry it all out while not endangering himself.”

  The sisters gritted their teeth in frustration and felt like giving up. Their blood-bond reinforced the mood, making them feel even worse.

  “Let's follow them inside. We’ll see what happens and how we can best affect the outcome. I imagine we’ll be able to help him some way,” Sylvana explained.

  The gate was slowly giving way under a renewed storm of axes and swords that kept chopping at the same spot. The gates, not built to withstand such punishment, shook like a leaf in the wind. With every swing, a piece of reinforced wood splintered off and lay shattered next to the assailants.

  Finally, some of the defenders showed up with hot oil and fire. Carefully, so as not to slip, four soldiers carried a barrel of hot oil up the stairs on one side, with another four defenders carrying a second barrel for their side of the gate. Oblivious to what was about to transpire, the assailants, a group of over fifty, kept slashing at the gate. When they were bunched up tight against the wall, the soldiers poured down the oil and lit it on fire. Over two-thirds of the attackers were burned to death on the spot, searing flames scorching flesh in addition to the armor and clothing the soldiers wore. Not daring to approach for fear of a replay, the remainder withdrew and were immediately picked off by the archers atop the towers.

  “Tsk. Look at them,” Helena said. “They’re not even good enough to make an opening!”

  Just then another group of soldiers cheered as they managed to create a hole at an undefended portion of the wall. They rushed the opening but were cut down as soon as they reached the breach by spears and swords from inside the wall.

  A small group of defenders made it impossible to enlarge the hole, deadly arrows shooting out periodically from inside.

  “We will enter over there and help the defenders as we go,” Sylvana ordered, pointing towards the hole. Helena looked over and nodded. The sisters moved quickly towards the hole and the attackers, reaching it in moments. Another five attackers fell before they arrived, leaving the opening unattended for a short breath.

  “Crush a few more pillars and get in five abreast, now!” Helena ordered.

  The soldiers obeyed without a second thought as they recognized the Elves, or at least some of them did who repeated the order. Sylvana quickly became annoyed and pushed three soldiers inside, then pulled Helena in right after. The two women slipped past the attackers as they engaged the seven defenders. Two of the defenders spotted the elves’ fleeing shadows but thought nothing of it than shadows playing games on them while trying to keep their focus on finishing off the ill-advised sortie and defending the breach in the wall.

  Sylvana ran ahead of Helena through the burning settlement, killing the occasional attacker and helping Raziel’s men. One thing they noticed immediately was the lack of civilians. Where the hell were they? A few dead were strewn about here and there, but most sprouted several arrows from their bodies.

  Moving stealthily, they evaded being seen by anyone still living and clung to shadows between buildings or smaller homes where they hid for seconds at a time, slowly making way towards the center of Newfolk.

  “There,” Helena whispered, pointing slightly to the left.

  “Yeah, I see it. Let’s move to that building over there,” Sylvana replied, keeping to the walls. As they rounded the corner, Sylvana stopped dead as her heart thundered in her chest, nearly choking her to death. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought to catch her breath. Helena wasn’t much better off, caught in the siblings’ emotional link.

  “A lot of—emotional distress—over there. They’re—overwhelming,” Sylvana wheezed, not able to stand upright for a good ten seconds. A burst of pain shot out from the center of Newfolk and caught them in its backlash. It was rare for humans to do it, so they assumed the eruption had come from an angry Vampire. The one and only angry Vampire.

  “Are you alright?” Helena asked once she managed to pull Sylvana to her feet.

  “Yeah, thanks,” she breathed. “Anything else?”

  Helena shook her head, anguish straining her pretty face. She felt bad for whoever felt that pain, it must have been terrible to witness.

  “I’m fine now, thanks. I want to see what’s going on in the town square.”

  Helena steadied her and together, they slowly walked past the few remaining buildings to get a better view of the square. They remained hidden in the shadows, even magically cloaking themselves in the gloom. What they saw was too horrible for words.

  A dozen women, who had been stripped naked and split from between their legs up to their necks, were all laid out in a row as Crozan perched atop a heap of dead men. In his left arm, he clutched a pretty human, in his right, a curved blade. Opposite Crozan, Raziel stood with sword and shield. Another young man and a few dozen soldiers stood by Raziel's side, ready to face off against attackers to their left and right flanks. They were desperately outnumbered, but the look in their eyes said it all: they were prepared to die to the last man.

  The young warrior standing next to Raziel caught Sylvana’s eye. He looked fierce as he stood there, tall and muscular. The black armor he wore was nearly identical to Raziel's. Was this the young man they called Grestal?

  “Why? To kill her, of course,” Crozan’s voice boomed. They could finally hear the conversation taking place between the two Lords. “Why else would I go through all the trouble, my friend? I’ve lost hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers just for this opportunity,” Crozan laughed. He genuinely seemed to be enjoying the pain he was inflicting.

  “Leave her out of it,” Raziel said in a calm voice, his stony stare as cold as death. Those were the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. Crozan was nothing compared to this man, the sisters could see that as clear as day. There was a reason that even Lefrand was wary of him. He was frightening beyond compare.

  “I can’t do that, Raziel. Look, you have a choice. Save your own life or try and save hers. You’ll still die no matter what, and she’ll die alongside you.” Crozan smirked, “Isn’t that romantic? Whatever you choose, I win in the end.”

  The cords in Raziel's neck bulged as he clenched his jaw. He faced a moral dilemma and it showed on his face. One wrong move and Crozan would kill Alara and then attack him. If he tried to run, Crozan would still kill Alara and then come after him. Raziel could probably kill him one on one, but not in this state, not while drowning in a sea of emotional turmoil

  “How a
bout this,” Raziel said, as he seemed to visibly relax. “We fight! You against me! If you win, you can do whatever you want to us! If I win, we leave without further bloodshed.”

  Crozan seemed to be thinking it over, scraping the blade against Alara’s cheek. He let out a deep breath and looked up at the sky for another moment before meeting Raziel’s eyes again.

  “Tempting, very tempting, if I say so myself. However—no, I refuse. You will finally learn what it means to lose a mate because you were helpless to stop me and chose yourself over her!”

  Time seemed to stand still as Crozan lowered his blade and pressed it against Alara’s throat. It hovered there as Raziel prepared to launch himself at Crozan, sword drawn and screaming bloody murder. With a flick of his wrist, the edge passed cleanly through her neck, leaving a thin line of red behind as she dropped to the ground.

  Chapter Eleven

  Everyone froze as Alara’s body hit the ground with an audible thud. The whole scene was surreal to the point I blinked, not able to believe what just happened. Everyone present held their breath, afraid to miss what was about to come.

  The tension before the attack had already reached a boiling point, and now it boiled over as everything that had built up inside me—pain, rage, hatred, and finally loss—came screaming out all at once. I lunged right at him, but then Crozan added insult to injury when he kicked aside her already dying body, breaking every bone his foot touched. Something also snapped inside me; an evil I had long suppressed screamed for vengeance from the pits of my soul. I cut it loose from the shackles that had bound it. I would let it do whatever it wanted. Even if it wanted to destroy this whole world, I wouldn’t hold it back. They all deserved to die.

  Within that single breath, I found myself before Crozan who still stood there, shaking in delight and anticipation. My blade sang as I sent it hurtling straight at his neck, but the bastard deflected it at the last possible moment, barely scratching his cheek.