Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1)

by Brent Lee Markee

  Dunnagan chuckled dryly. “They just might lad, they haven't seemed ta get the idea up ta this point.”

  “You know, I was thinking about that.” Ashur said as he surveyed the encampment with his spyglass. “The only reason I can think of for them to continue sending patrols is that they are looking for something.”

  “Or, they are just stupid.” Shawnrik added.

  “Well there's always that.” Ashur added with a chuckle. “But, if you look at the subtle organization of the camp, you might develop a different opinion.” Shawnrik looked at him skeptically, which prompted his instructor to continue. “See how their camps seem to be placed sporadically within the ravine? Things also appear to have been thrown about without care. I don't know about you two, but in the last week I haven't seen more than a bone thrown about without care. If you look close almost every camp down there has the same layout. The clutter is not really in the way, and there are clear paths all the way through the encampment. You'll also notice the way the wagons have been placed strategically so that they are able to be pushed over. That makes good fortified positions for them to fall back on should they lose ground to an enemy. The rocks on the side of that cave entrance have been supported by beams that if knocked away would allow those two stone slabs to fall in front creating a very defensible position, and I suspect that a bit further back there is a set up that will close the cave completely.” Dunnagan whistled softly as Ashur finished his observations and turned to Shawnrik. “So, what does that tell us?”

  Shawnrik let the information he had just been given a few moments to absorb before he answered.” Well, for one thing they plan on being here for a while, or that they have already been here for awhile. Secondly that they must have air holes, and probably an escape route out the back of that cave.. Which also means that they could have sent out other patrols from that entrance.”

  “Oh, I hadn't thought of that last one.” Ashur said clearly impressed.

  “Very good human, now drop your weapons over the side and stand up slowly.”

  The three men turned their heads quickly and reached for their weapons.

  “Oh I wouldn't do that.” The speaker was wearing a pitch black robe that hid his features, and his gloved hands were holding a rather intricate crossbow. Behind him stood two more cowled figures also holding crossbows, and half a dozen Orcs with longbows.

  “Well we handled that splendidly.” Shawnrik said in disgust as their captors left the cell in which they were now confined.

  “If we would have attacked them street rat, we would have at least a few holes in us. That is including our souls from our bodies, which I'm not ready to let Ol' Thom take me quite yet.” Ashur said heatedly as he surveyed the room in t he dim light.

  “Don't call me street rat, I don't care if you are upset or not.” Shawnrik glared at Ashur until the man's head fell in defeat.

  “I'm sorry Shawn, you know… I mean… Well I'm sorry. I'll try not to do it again.”

  “What our temperamental companion is tryin' ta tell ye laddie, is that them three gentlemen in full black were what those of us in the Protectorate call Dracair Assassins.” Dunnagan moved closer to Shawnrik so that his voice wouldn't be overheard easily by anyone outside of the room. “I meself wouldn't want ta be testin' me mettle against one of 'em in a one on one fair fight, and the Dracair never play fair. There are only a couple dozen men that can stand up at one of 'em in pure melee skill, and I can count on my hand with two fingers left ta spare how many men I be knowin' that could live through fighting more than one of 'em.”

  “Surely you have to include Cantel in that list, and Adrian Theromvore and Elyse Theromvore.” Ashur said.

  I included High Commander Cantel in my list, but I suppose you are right about Adrian and Elyse. Zander was the one I left off the list. He could take one in a close quarters fight, but he doesn't have the skill ta handle two. Now, if ye wanted me ta include those with magical abilities, and other supernatural talents, the number rises quite a bit. I however, am talking about the situation that we were just faced with.” Dunnagan turned from Ashur and looked straight at Shawnrik. “At least one of us would probably have died in that fight. Not only that, but we didn't know if there were more of them about. You aren't ready fer that fight yet lad, an' If'n I be havin' me way, ye aren't gonna be testin' yerself against one such as he for a few good years yet.”

  Shawnrik sighed, “I figured it was something like that. Well, what do we do now?”

  “Well, I'd say that we are going to sit here and see what they want.” Ashur said in defeat as he completed his round of their cell. “No matter how much better another man, or creature, is than you in a fight though, if they try to kill you, you try to kill them right back.”

  A few hours later Shawnrik was awakened from a light sleep by the sound of the outer door of the chamber opening. Raising his head he saw Ashur and Dunnagan sitting against the wall looking towards the doorway. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and waited. The first thing he saw was the black cloak and he knew that it was one of the Dracair. This time however the man's cowl was down. Shawnrik was stricken by the features this creature shared with Nim. Like Nim, the man's eyes were reptilian. This man however had none of the human qualities that Nim possessed within those eyes, like compassion. The Dracair's hair was long, and pulled back. His hair was thicker than any humans would be, and it formed a more visible scale pattern than Nim's did. The man's face was gaunt, and his ears were just holes in the side of his head. All of this incased in a skin that was leathery and had a light red tinge to it.

  “Ah, and how are my guests doing?” The man said in a raspy voice that grated at Shawnrik's ears.

  “Oh just fine, I don't think I've had a more comfortable room in years, and the food you serve is excellent, but I think I'd like to leave now. If you'd just get my bill I'll be on my way.” Ashur said smiling, and the Dracair's eyes narrowed before he schooled his face again.

  “It's a good thing you have a sense of humor human, you are going to need it when I remove you're guts.” Now the Dracair grinned with a sadistic pleasure that almost made Shawnrik shiver.

  “Well friend,” Ashur said standing up. “Why don't you come into this cage and try it.”

  The assassin looked at Ashur dumbfounded. “I don't know if you realize what situation you are in human, and just who I am.”

  “Oh I know who you are, you're just another snake who has a god complex. You think your Draconic blood gives you powers over everyone else, and you can take whatever you want whenever you want.” The Dracair's face was becoming even more incredulous as Ashur went on. “Remember though, all you have to do to make a snake harmless is cut off it's head. So, why don't you come in here, and show me who you are?” Ashur grinned as he opened his hands wide.

  Shawnrik thought he saw a hint of fear in the eyes of the assassin before he hissed and stomped out the doorway. After the door slammed Ashur broke down into a laughing fit that Shawnrik had never seen the likes of. His laughter however was infectious, and soon all three of them were laughing uproariously.

  “Oh lad, that was brilliant!” Dunnagan howled between breaths. “You sure made that man think about the situation!”

  Suddenly Ashur stopped laughing and looked seriously at Dunnagan. “They aren't men Dunn. Maybe once, their great grandparents had a semblance of humanity left in them, but if there is more than one in ten thousand of those beasts with a conscience I'll eat my own foot.”

  “Aye, yer probably right about that one lad.” Dunnagan said solemnly.

  *****

  Month of Ragnós

  Seventh day

  Continent of Terroval

  Northwest of Asylum

  Protectorate Base Camp

  Victor had thought that a scouting mission would be an afternoon event. He had been in no way prepared for the five day trek through the hills and forests north of Asylum. The amount of terrain they had covered was staggering, and every night Victor had
been to the point of collapsing when they had chosen to camp for the night. He had to take two steps for every one that everyone else was taking, but he had kept up. Secretly he thought they might have been testing to see if he would give up, and if he could handle the task. Victor didn't mind though, he loved to be challenged. His whole life thus far had been one challenge after another, and he knew that because of it he was stronger than anyone else had achieved at his age. Well, at least he hoped it was true. It made him feel a bit more sure of what he was doing with these veterans.

  Now he sat, looking into the fire rubbing his weary feet, and thinking about what he had learned in the past few days. He had learned not just how a squad works together as a cohesive unit, but also a bit about the individual members of the unit. One of the first things Victor had learned was the call sign of the squad.

  It seems that the unit had developed a reputation for going out of their way to right something that they thought was wrong, whether it was against army regulations or not. For this reason the other squads of their company had taken to calling them vigilantes. The unit known as the Blood Hounds had liked the new title, and since everyone was already calling them that they officially adopted the name becoming the Vigilantes. It had been a running joke at the time amongst the company, but soon the Vigilantes would earn the respect of their peers as a unit that got the job done no matter what it took, and a squad that worked so well together it seemed as if they were linked.

  Getting to know the members of the Vigilantes was easier than Victor had thought it would be, but harder than he had hoped it would be. Shaylyn had instilled him with that thought process early though, expect the worst of a situation and hope for the best, for hope is a stronger weapon than most. As he looked around the fire at the people that had become his comrades he knew that he could rely on them, and soon he would prove that they could rely on him. Living off of the streets of Safeharbor's Docks District had given him a cynicism beyond his years, and the people that were in his life during that period seemed transient. He found himself wondering more than a few times during the past week if this was what it was like to have a family.

  Shaylyn had been the closest thing to family that Victor had ever known, but even then he had the feeling that it wouldn't last. She had told him at a very early age that she was not his mother. By the time he was three Shaylyn had already begun teaching him multiple languages, and the arts of Shaping, so Victor couldn't help but think of her as an instructor more than he thought of her as a mother. She had however, always been there when he had been sick and scared. Victor had missed that greatly over the last year and a half. Ol' man Walkins had never been a father figure, but he had taught Victor valuable information on how to survive on the streets.

  Then Nim had come into his life, and he had a sense of what it might be like to have a father. When Nim was teaching Victor it wasn't in a manner of an instructor to a student, but of one man to another. That was one of the things that Victor admired most about his adopted father, he never treated him like a kid. Now, he felt like he was meeting more of the family. He had come to accept the fact that people would probably never be permanent fixtures in his life, but he was glad to have them none the less. In this group he had found kindred spirits, people that knew that they would do what needed to be done, because they were the ones that needed to do it.

  Thinking about it, Victor realized that the squad was probably everything a real family would be like. They told stories about each other without holding back any details, especially the embarrassing ones, and they talked to each other with such candor that at first Victor was taken aback. Most of all though, there was no real privacy. You can never really get away from each other, and if you were having a problem it was expected that you tell the squad so it doesn't catch them by surprise. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the way the squad treated him, but they had accepted him in their own way. The squad ranged from talking to him like the eight year old he was physically to treating him like a young man. He felt that he could put up with this in the light that their complaints had stopped when he was able to keep up with their fast pace, and was able to be quiet when he needed to be.

  Still, as he looked at the laughing faces around the campfire he wondered how long he would have with them. The patrol had gone very routinely according to the Sergeant, and besides the constant activity of the unit the week had been rather dull. The information he had garnered about the unit was sketchy at best made up of mostly opinions based on the few facts he knew. Something inside told him that he would have enough time with them to at least learn who each of them really was though.

  When they had returned to the base camp Nim had taken Victor with him to give the report to High Commander Cantel. They left the squad with Sergeant McDowell yelling about checking gear and just about anything else that came to his mind whether it was relevant or not. The only things that they had to report to the High Commander were some troop movements they had seen while atop one of the hills and were able to watch the army move about on the fields below. They also related the surprising lack of activity in the mountains north of Asylum. Stewart Cantel however had more than enough to tell Nim. The reports coming in from the south said that their was quite a bit of activity southeast of Asylum.

  The High Commander Suggested to Nim that he should take the squad to Asylum first thing in the morning so that they could be prepared to exit the city into the lower foothills late tomorrow night. The information that they would have less than a day's rest of R&R before they deployed again was not a surprise to the squad. That's not to say that their wasn't grumbling amongst the squad about it. The grumbling was quickly replaced with the sounds of equipment being readied, and a lot of talk that seemed to have no real point to Victor.

  When the sun started getting toward the western horizon they made a fire and prepared the evening meal. After five days of dry rations a hot meal of bacon and beans was like a feast. Victor could have done without the beans, but they made a good filler with the bacon. The sun was now touching the horizon, preparing to take the light with it, and Victor found the squad yet again talking about things that seemed unimportant to him. He thought that they might be purposely avoiding conversation about their next days activities. His feet had stopped aching, and he knew that he should get the circulation going through them so they were prepared for tomorrow, so he decided to take a walk amid the encampment.

  He knew after about thirty paces that he was being followed, but he also felt that it wasn't a threat, so he pretended to not take note of the fact. He didn't know for sure how he knew he was being followed, he couldn't hear any foot steps, and he couldn't smell them in the air, but he knew that they were there. He found as he walked around the camp that most of the conversations around the fires were about nothing much at all. Every once in awhile he would see someone showing someone else what they were doing wrong with their weapon in battle, or teaching one of the newer men how to properly hone a blade, but those were few and far between.

  After awhile he realized that a lot of the conversations had been focused around family, or what they would do when they retired. Victor thought that it was a good topic of conversation for soldiers, giving them something to fight for. Again he came to a realization that maybe they knew that too. Finally, the person following moved closer and he was able to pick the scent from the air.

  “Finally tired of following behind me Nim?” Victor asked with his back towards the man.

  “Not many people realize that I'm following them before it's too late for them, how long have I been following you?” Nim asked in an amused voice.

  “Well I'd have to say that you started watching me after dinner, but you started following me when I got up for my walk.” Victor turned towards his Adopted father and saw a smile of approval on the man's face.

  “Very, Very good Victor. Hone those instincts, and they will treat you well. It is part of our heritage. I am the offspring of a Dracairei, or what we call the Dracair
Assassins, they have the ability to mask their presence quite efficiently from our extra sense. That has helped me more than once in my adventures, it's good to know you might see it coming.” Nim walked up to Victor and did something that he had not been expecting however.

  Nim grabbed Victor and embraced him. “I'm very proud of you, you know. If I had ever have a son I hope he is like you. I could hardly hope for better.” He put Victor down and put his hand on the glossy eyed boys shoulder. “As you have probably figured out from walking around, there is nothing a soldier lives for more than the peaceful times.” Looking like he was in serious thought he added, “Well, most of 'em.” with a wink. They talk about the mundane, but their minds are always on the job ahead. That is why they talk about things that really matter. If a man has nothing to fight for he won't live long in the midst of battle. These men quite literally defend their homelands from threats on a regular basis.” Nim took a deep breath and looked around at the men proudly.

  “The last thousand years have been rather quiet compared to the years before, and the only reason our population has stayed ahead of the wars is because our women tend to have two or three children at a time. That's another part of our heritage, and someday I'll explain to you about the links that can come into play amongst these siblings, but not today. Every year we lose between two to ten thousand men, and every year three to twelve thousand men replace them from the academy. Most of the men we lose are green, so that means that somewhere between one in six or five out of six will not come home. Those aren't exactly welcomed odds, but they do it, because it needs to be done. Your people,” Nim looked at him seriously, “Our people, are a very hardy folk.”

  Victor nodded appreciatively. “I know, I've sort of been coming to that realization over the last week more than ever before. The Vigilantes are some of the best aren't they?” Victor asked.

  Nodding Nim said, “That they are Victor. That is a squad I would have loved to lead when I was a Sergeant.” He looked around sadly. “Of course I was only a Sergeant for about a week. It was during the last real push that the Dracair sent at us. They never seem to want to come themselves so they send their minions. I think it happens after they have too many of the things around, so they just send 'em to keep us busy, but they do it every twenty years or so. A lot of my friends died during that time, and I met some of the people that I would fight with for a long time. War is a funny thing Victor. It is vicious, merciless at times, and some of the things seen during times of war shouldn't be seen at anytime.”