by Toni Cox
Yet, here they were, raiding their supplies. There were about twenty-five of them left, an even match now, but Rothea decided to let them take what they could carry.
“We are but a few days from Shadow Hall. I will not risk the lives of my men for bags of clothing and supplies,” she said.
Thus, they had stood back and let them take what they wanted. The horses had fled into the woods, so they were safe. Aaron thought it almost over, when there was a sound behind them and one of the Vampyres turned to look.
A toothy grin spread over the Vampyre’s face at what he saw and he had dropped the parcel he carried, calling out to his companions. At the same time, Rothea gave the order to attack. Some elves turned around and ran the other way, attacking those that had come out of the forest behind them. Aaron, with Wolf running at his heels, followed Rothea into battle with the Vampyres who had raided their supplies.
What felt like an hour later, they found themselves defending what was left of their supplies, with at least five of Rothea’s men dead. The rest either battled out on the open field, or prevented the Vampyres from going into the woods after their horses. Aaron wasn’t sure how he and Rothea ended up guarding their supplies alone, now facing ten Vampyres.
Frowning, he assessed the situation and ran through everything Rothea had taught him. Right now, he did not care about their supplies, their tents, or even his own safety. It was the woman at his back that now spurred him into action and put into practice everything he had learned. It was at that moment that he realised he was in love with Rothea.
Letting out a primal growl, sounding very much like Wolf, Aaron broke the standoff and attacked. Wolf did not need to be asked twice and immediately launched himself at the throat of the nearest Vampyre. Rothea reacted as swiftly, although surprised, and fought alongside him.
Aaron did not think; if he thought about it too much he was afraid he might lose his nerve. He simply let his muscle memory wield the sword for him as he had practiced with Rothea every day.
The weapon no longer felt heavy in his hand, but more like an extension of his arm. With his body so much stronger, he hardly felt the heaviness of the hauberk underneath his jerkin and heavy overcoat. All his movements had been practiced so many times that they now came naturally and with ease.
Fast and strong, the Vampyres allowed him not one moment of hesitation, yet he kept one eye on Rothea all the time. She was an exceptional warrior, better than him, but he felt it his duty to protect her.
He beheaded a Vampyre who came up on Rothea from behind, swinging around and slicing through another’s torso in the same movement. Four down, six to go. Vaguely, he noticed the fighting on the field, but it was of little concern to him at that moment.
Rothea killed another with a graceful blow of her sword. Aaron’s heart swelled with admiration for the fiery red-head and stabbed a Vampyre through the heart for getting too close to her.
Turning quickly, ducking a blow, his sword sliced through the air, slashing a Vampyre’s legs. He went down with a scream, which Aaron soon silenced with s stab through the Vampyre’s throat.
He took a step back from the now silent Vampyre and felt something bump into his back. Swiftly, he twirled around, swinging his blade, only to realise it was Rothea. They looked at each other for a moment, before Aaron noticed all the Vampyre’s were dead bar one.
The remaining Vampyre had Wolf pinned to the ground. Wolf growled and snarled, but he was unable to move. With saliva dripping from his fangs, the Vampyre bent forward to end the wolf’s life.
With a scream of rage, Aaron ran forwards. Never in his life had he been this angry and he now let it all out. Violently, he launched himself at the startled Vampyre, who stood up and released Wolf.
Before Wolf had even found his feet, Aaron was locked in combat with the Vampyre, unleashing a storm of blows upon him. The fight only lasted a few seconds; the Vampyre never stood a chance against Aaron’s rage. The Vampyre’s head fell to the ground with a thud, followed closely by his limp body.
Aaron stood over him, stabbing him in the stomach repeatedly, soaking the frozen ground in his rancid blood. Only when Rothea laid a calming hand on his arm, did he slow his movements and eventually stop.
Breathing heavily, he looked around at their campsite. Dead Vampyres lay all around and Rothea’s Regiment stood over them, dispatching any that still moved with a quick slit of the throat.
Their supplies lay scattered all across the field and one of their tents was in flames. Their horses were nowhere to be seen.
Wolf nudged him and he reached out to stroke the animal’s head. His fingers came away bloody and he quickly checked Wolf for injuries. Thankfully, the only blood on Wolf was that of the Vampyres.
“You saved his life,” Rothea said. “And mine,” she added softly. “Thank you, Aaron. You fought valiantly today.”
“Never in my life have I been as scared,” he replied, standing tall and proud, “but I know now what I am fighting for and it is worth every drop of blood I may shed in the process. Know that I now understand what you have been fighting for the past two years and I will add my sword to your struggle. I would lay down my life for you, if that is what it takes to protect you.”
He lifted his chin. He had not meant to say so much at once, but at the same time was glad he said it. Rothea stared at him, trying to comprehend his words. He watched in fascination as the realisation started to show on her face. Her face turned from perplexed to beautiful the moment the corner of her mouth lifted into a smile.
With the adrenaline still flowing through his body and lending him bravery, he stepped in close, feeling her breath on his face. She did not step back, only gasped, and he leant in to kiss her.
“Lady Goodheart,” one of her men shouted, running across the field.
Startled, Rothea stepped away from him to respond to her warrior.
Smiling, Aaron watched her restore order to the chaos. He might not have stolen the kiss, but he now knew for sure she felt the same about him. They had time and their opportunity would come. For now, the only thing that mattered was that she was safe.
The darkest hour just before sunrise was the worst for Jaik; hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
He had just received news that the city was ready. So far, their defences had held and, although they had two small attacks during the night, they had managed to get the city armed and the war machines in place.
No one knew this forest better than them. No matter how well prepared the Vampyres were, or how well they had planned this, they were still at a disadvantage. There were tunnels, passages, caves, and zip lines that not even all the Elves within the city knew about, but that he, as Commander of the Guard, had to know about.
He now made use of his intimate knowledge of the hidden pathways of the city and dispatched the people to their allotted stations. They used no torches, they made no sounds as they moved and, by the time the sun rose, most of the city was left deserted.
As he had expected, the Vampyre General who led the siege, dispatched a messenger as soon as the sun rose. The messenger would be received by Silas down in the city and delayed there. Jaik had plans for him later.
Frost coated the forest around them, sparkling in the bright, morning light. Charming as it looked, Jaik knew the danger that lurked between the trees and even the birds withheld their morning song.
All his fears came true with the Vampyres laying siege to his city, but his doubts had been replaced by cold, calculated anger. He stared out over the Vampyre camp from his vantage point in his chosen tree.
All around the city, Commanders had taken to the trees, each in charge of attacking one of the main camps. Jaik chose the main General’s camp for himself. When he heard the call of a Woods Owl, he knew his ground troops were in place and they were ready for the attack.
He had been awake all night, going over every detail until every Commander and Second in Charge knew his plan intimately. It was not without risk, but noth
ing worth fighting for was ever easy.
Jaik nodded to Filithrin, who answered the call of the Woods Owl with a hoot of his own. As one, over a thousand Elves poured from the trees around the city, falling down onto the Vampyre camps like rain drops.
The Werewolves howled in surprise and the Vampyres scampered for their weapons. Jaik did not give them the time to arm themselves; by the time the camp was ready to defend itself, over half of them lay dead before him.
Wielding his weapon with deadly efficiency and ice-cold precision, Jaik waded through the onslaught of Vampyres with only one goal in mind; to kill the General. Werewolves fell to his blade in droves as he made his way through the camp.
All around him, his men were locked in their own battles, but the sounds that reached his ears told him they were winning. He had planned his attack well and, unless something happened he had not accounted for, the attack should soon be over.
Putting his foot onto the torso of the Vampyre he had just killed, he yanked his sword out of the Vampyre’s chest. He barely noticed the disgusting sucking noise it made as it came free, having heard the sound all too often during the war.
Jaik blinked when blood squirted into his face as Filithrin killed a Werewolf, but he carried on towards the General’s tent without hesitation. Another Vampyre fell before him and still the General had not come out of his tent. Frowning, Jaik approached it with caution.
Their attack had been so quick and silent; Jaik made it to the General’s tent within moments of the attack. Why had the General not come out? With his blade raised in front of him, he stepped closer to the tent, its opening flapping in the icy wind.
Already knowing the truth, Jaik looked inside; the General had left. Worried, and disappointed, Jaik glanced around at the fighting still going on around the Vampyres’ camp. He did not see the General anywhere, nor did he see other Generals.
Anxiety creased his brow.
“To me,” he yelled, summoning his Guard and those he had chosen to fight with him. “The General is not here,” he told them once they had assembled. “Neither have I seen any other Generals since the attack. I fear they somehow knew we were coming and have taken action of their own. Glark, spread the word that the rest of the Vampyres are to be dealt with as swiftly as possible and then I want every warrior to return to the city with haste.”
“Aye, My Lord,” the Dwarf said and took off into the forest to follow his orders.
To the rest he said, “I fear the Generals have taken advantage of our absence from the city. I don’t know how they could have known, but I now worry they may also know where we have hidden the elderly and the children. Let us make haste.”
Without another word, they moved towards the city, running, killing stray Werewolves and another Vampyre or two as they ran. When they reached the point where Jaik had stationed archers in the trees around the city as an extra safety precaution, they paused briefly, questioning them.
“None have passed here, My Lord,” they confirmed.
Jaik and his men ran on. They reached the cliff face surrounding the city and again Jaik looked up at the trees. His mother and Siya were stationed up there, bows at the ready. He could not see them, which was as it should be, yet it worried him. He whistled softly. When he heard the reply, his heart jumped in his chest with relief.
He ran on. He did not want to draw attention to the women in the trees. Every woman able to fight had volunteered to assist in protecting the city; the same as every man who was not a warrior had volunteered to do their bit.
Only the elderly and the children had been hidden within two of the storage caves below the city. Thinking they might have been killed by the Generals spurred him to even greater speed. For the first time in his life he cursed the convoluted pathways and twisted stairs of his city and often he would simply jump over a railing to the path below, instead of taking the staircase.
The city was eerily silent; not a person in sight. All was as he ordered it, yet he could not shake the feeling that something terrible was happening even as he approached the first storage cave.
He held up his fist and they all slowed. From the outside, the storage cave looked like nothing more than a hollow in the rock. No elaborate archway adorned its entrance and the torch brackets were mounted on the inside along the cave wall, invisible from the outside.
Looking around the corner, he peered into the darkness. Silence greeted him. With a quick motion of his hand, he signalled Filithrin to the other side of the opening. They listened carefully, but heard nothing; it was as if there was no one within the cave at all.
He had chosen the two storage caves with care. They both had the longest tunnels of all the caves within the city. They were also the most twisted tunnels, with alcoves and smaller tunnels branching off the main tunnel. The caves were among the largest of all the caves, with many hiding places and, as he had discovered during the night, defensive positions.
Silently, they entered the tunnel. Additional safety precautions were in place within the tunnel and they were careful not to step on any of the trip wires that would trigger an alarm. Removing a small crystal from his pocket, he held it shielded within his hand, casting just enough light for them to see in the complete darkness after they had rounded the first two bends.
Once they reached the halfway mark, Jaik stopped and once again whistled softly. When his whistle was answered with the correct response, he unshielded his crystal and they ran the remainder of the way.
Before they had even reached the main cave, Jasmin came running towards them, her crossbow to her shoulder.
“Halt, who goes there?” she shouted.
“It is I, Jaik,” he replied, the relief clear in his voice. “Is everything all right here?”
“Yes, we have had no incidents. You are the first to come in here. Is it over?”
“I am afraid not, Jasmin. We won the battle with the Vampyres at the camps, but the Generals are missing. I was worried they came to raid the city. You have heard and seen nothing?”
“No, I have been on guard the entire time. Everyone is doing well inside. Luke is with Chante, but it doesn’t look like she will have her baby today.”
“Thank you, Jasmin. Return to your post, then. I will send for you once everything is over.”
Jasmin nodded, and retreated.
“What now, My Lord?” one of his men asked.
“To the other cave,” he said curtly and ran back out of the tunnel.
His breath steamed in the cold air as they sprinted the distance between the two caves. They saw no one along their way and when they reached the cave they found it as safe as the first one. Chante had, indeed, not had her baby yet.
Standing on the narrow path outside the cave, his breath steaming in the frigid air, he started to doubt himself. Surely he wasn’t imagining the threat; he felt it with every fibre of his body. But, if it was real, then who was in danger?
“My Lord, there is movement over by the Sparring Grounds,” Filithrin said from behind him.
They were too far away to make out details, but Jaik could clearly see the movement Filithrin was talking about.
“Only Silas and one of the Sentinels remained behind at the Hall of the Guardians to keep watch over the messenger the Vampyres sent. We would not be able to see only two people from this distance. For us to see movement there would need to be a great commotion. Elmar, find the other Commanders. They should be getting back to the city by now. Bring them to the hall.”
“Immediately, My Lord.”
“I do not have a good feeling about this, Fili.” He turned to his friend. “Into battle we go.”
“Into battle we go,” Filithrin repeated.
Without another word, they stepped off the path and ran across the Gathering Grounds. Once at ground level, they lost sight of the movement ahead, but it did not deter them. When they came level with the Silver Forest, the road that led passed the cliffs towards the Hall of the Guardians came back into view and this time they c
ould clearly see what caused the commotion.
A pack of Werewolves, maybe twenty of them, snarled and snapped at each other over something lying on the ground. Jaik considered for a moment to simply skirt the pack and make his way to the hall unnoticed by the hounds, but his city would be safer if the Werewolves were dealt with first.
Drawing his sword, he was the first to plunge into the mass of heaving hounds and he chopped at them indiscriminately. The others followed, chopping off the beasts’ heads, or driving their swords through their bellies.
Only once they reached the centre of the huddle of hounds did they realise why they were fighting amongst each other. There, before them, ripped limb from limb, laid the Sentinel who was supposed to be with Silas. Blood drenched the frozen ground and the Sentinel’s entrails lay trampled beneath the Werewolves’ dirty paws.
With a scream of rage, Jaik doubled his efforts and soon every Werewolf joined the Sentinel in his fate.
“They are wearing saddles, My Lord,” Filithrin noted. “They had riders.”
“The Generals.”
“Aye.”
Jaik ground his teeth. He thought the Generals would capture his people to feed, or for Shadow Hall’s supplies. He had underestimated the Vampyres. Again. They were not here for food or supplies; they were here for information.
Not only was Silas the adviser to the king, but he was also Maia’s mentor. Teacher of the Princess of Light, he thought cynically as he left the bloody mess behind him and made his way to the Hall of the Guardians.
They walked cautiously now, expecting an ambush. They rounded the last corner of the cliff that shielded the Sparring Grounds from the rest of Shadow Hall and, as the Hall of the Guardians came into view, they saw two Generals standing guard at its doors.
With hand signals, Jaik ordered some men to circle around; to make sure there were no others outside and so that he had men on the other side.
They had killed about twenty Werewolves. Two Generals stood guard by the doors of the hall. At least eighteen more Generals were either within the Hall of the Guardians, or within the Sparring Grounds.