Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  One of the lerwicks stepped forward, his hands straight down at his side, stiff. He looked uncomfortable but was still determined to speak. “Hamas,” he said in a shaky voice. “I know I speak for all of us when I tell you that we have already made our choice.” A series of nodding heads confirmed his statement. “We already know what it is like to hide in the forests, to try to blend in with the shadows because we knew we had no place to call home. Well, that ended the day we heard her call.” He glanced at Viola.

  “And we have no intentions of ever going back to that life. The moment we stepped into the tower, we knew our old lives were gone forever. We have a purpose now. Even after Viola promised it so, then you came along and confirmed that very same promise. We do not fear death, for we have been dead for years. This is why we are here.”

  Viola stepped forward and took his hand in hers. “I am grateful that you are willing to place so much faith in me,” she said, then turned towards the others. “I am proud of all of you. And as we move forward together, I hope that you will continue to give me your best as I will give you mine.” She softened her voice. “Your time will come, I promise you this. But it will not happen today. You are not ready yet.”

  “What?” Hamas protested, the old man nearly jumping out of his skin. “But this is your purpose! You are perfect, flawless beings. How can you possibly say—”

  “Because they’re not ready,” Owen agreed, interrupting the old man’s fit. “Send them out there now and many won’t be coming back. Believe me, I’ve seen this pattern too many times. The ground already be soaked with the blood of young men and women who died before their time because they didn’t know to handle themselves on a battlefield. There’ll be plenty o’ violence to go around before it’s over. No reason to send them to early graves just because ye be impatient.”

  “And what does a brute like you know?” Hamas argued, unwilling to give up on his stance. His creations were perfect and physically superior to nearly every other being. What did it matter if they were somewhat lacking in battle experience?

  In a flash, Owen’s sword was drawn, the beast of a man crossing the room before anyone could blink. Lerwicks yelped, hands rising up instinctually as the streaking blade stopped just above their heads. Some of their arms had even turned into flesh blades, their bodies’ involuntary reaction to being threatened.

  “If I be a ghatin, I’d have killed half of ye before you knew what was happening. The other half? Well, at least you’d know you were being killed.” He tapped one of their flesh blades with the flat end of his sword. “Half of ye don’t even know how these things work or how to control them.” It was true. Many didn’t even understand how their bodies worked. With their blood mixed as it was, they didn’t have the natural instincts of a pure-born being. He sheathed his sword and glanced back at Hamas. “They’re not ready.”

  Hamas lowered his eyes. Even a man as brilliant as he could make no further argument in his favor. Owen was right. They simply were not ready.

  “But that doesn’t mean we should stand around and do nothing,” Viola said, turning her attention to Rishima.

  “And what do you propose?” she asked earnestly. Rishima had come to value Viola’s input, even if she did not always agree. What Viola lacked in experience she made up for in instinct. “By your own admission, your men are not ready to act. I don’t see that we can do much of anything.”

  “Soldiers get all the glory but they seldom win the war,” Viola said, thinking back to one of the books Assirra had given her. “It doesn’t matter if we are ready to fight or not if we still don’t understand the enemy. We have to see what we are up against before any other decisions can be made.”

  “A scouting party?”

  Viola nodded.

  “And who would lead this party?”

  Viola’s smile was answer enough.

  “Very well, I will leave it up to you. But...” She had to stop Viola, who was already in motion, seeking to form her team. “This mission is to gather information, nothing more. Find out what you can then return to the tower. Under no circumstances are you to engage the enemy. Do I make myself clear?”

  Viola bowed her head.

  I’m placing my trust in you, Viola.

  Please do not make me regret this...

  Chapter 20

  The speeding lerwicks raced across the landscape, a billowing cloud of gray dust coiling up behind them. Shadowy funnels of black birds whirled into the air, then settled back down nearly half a mile up the road. They could have moved even faster if Jarlen were to push, but there was no point in using up that much energy. Redwater wasn’t going anywhere and they still needed to conserve their strength for what lay ahead.

  When the city came into view, Jarlen signaled for everyone to slow down and get organized. No sense in rushing in recklessly, especially since they weren’t quite sure what to expect. As they drew closer, what had recently transpired here in the city became more and more obvious. Bodies littered the street with swarms of flies swarming all over their bloated faces. The ghatins hadn’t even bothered removing them after the slaughter, perhaps leaving them scattered about as a warning to others. Their rancid scent tainted the air, hanging over the city like a vile smog of rotten death. And the bloodstained streets had turned dark, a sickly brown crimson that further gave off a tangy stench of its own.

  “Stay out of sight and wait for my signal,” Jarlen said, eyeing the surprisingly well-preserved buildings. It was odd being surrounded by such evidence of a complete slaughter, yet the city’s structures remained largely intact. It was a stark reminder of just how dominant the victory had been for the ghatins. No battle had taken place here. It was an execution.

  After years of fighting in the pit, Jarlen’s senses had become highly refined. Although his eyes revealed nothing out of the ordinary, he could feel their gazes as he walked down the barren street. Abandoned buildings, eerie shells of structures that once housed tens of thousands of humans, appeared to give off their own ghostly energy. There was no detectable movement, no signs of life, yet Jarlen knew that nothing could be farther from the truth.

  “Come down and show yourselves,” Jarlen growled, his deep voice rumbling through the empty streets. He could feel them stirring, shifting about like a restless wind behind the walls. Then, like vaporous apparitions, the white beings filtered down into the street. Although it was only Jarlen standing alone, they moved towards him with caution. This was no harmless human standing before them, but a dangerous, deadly being. They had seen what the lerwicks could do to their kind. And despite having this one surrounded and outnumbered, there was still plenty of cause for concern.

  “A fine job,” Jarlen said, a sweeping hand gesturing across the bodies lying on the street. “I should thank you for saving me the trouble of having to rid the city of this infestation myself.”

  “What do you want?” one of the ghatins hissed, his body swaying in unison with the others. This lerwick’s unwavering confidence in the presence of so many ghatins was rather unnerving.

  “What do I want?” Jarlen threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve come to praise you for a job well done, as well as to offer you an opportunity.”

  “Do play coy with us, lerwick. Be gone from here from while we still allow you to leave. Our dispute is with the humans, not with your kind.”

  “As is ours,” Jarlen said, raising a hand in the air. From behind, his lerwicks came out of hiding and started filing in behind him. Now that he had some idea of their numbers, he wasn’t afraid to show his own. “And because you have done us the favor of purging those wretched beings from this city, I am willing to make you an offer. But be warned, I will only make it once. We are here to claim the city back to its rightful owners.” A rippling stir radiated through the ranks of ghatins, as if a stiff breezed was moving them like sheets on a wire. “Go now and I will allow you to leave with your lives. You have my word.”

  “The word of a lerwick is no better than that of a human
,” said a different ghatin, his voice like whistling wind.

  “Believe what you wish,” Jarlen said, waving off the insult. “My dwindling offer is on the table.” His eyes narrowed. “But not for much longer.”

  “You dare to threaten us!” said the first ghatin, his pink eyes flaring with rage. The others moved in closer, taking up various positions around the lerwicks. But even though they had the superior numbers, they still showed caution while circling slowly.

  Jarlen turned his back on them. “Make your choice but do it quickly,” he said, giving his men a subtle nod. He kicked a corpse near his feet, sending the rotten arm of an old woman tumbling away. “It seems we have a lot of cleaning up to do, so it’s best you creatures were on your way. I’m sure you will have no trouble taking another city just as easily as you took this one.”

  “That is not the point, is it?” came the same hissing voice from just behind his ear. Jarlen could actually feel his breath on the back of his neck. “This realm and everything in it belongs to the ghatins, including this city. We don’t answer to the likes of you. We answer to no one!”

  “I see,” Jarlen replied, having yet to turn around. “So your pride means more to you than your lives. Foolish indeed.” He spun back, his flesh blade impaling two ghatins right through their chests. “Very well, then. Die with your damn honor!” Both ghatins shrieked, their eyes bulging with shock. Black smoke coiled up as rings of charring flesh began to swell and consume their bodies. Screeching like whistles, their bodies burst in a flash of roaring blue flame. Engulfing their quickly blackening bodies, the flame consumed them in a matter of seconds.

  Jarlen’s flesh blades flashed left and right, striking down three more with the same result. Following his lead, his lerwicks sprang into action, their blades slashing and stabbing wildly. They were nowhere near as skilled as Jarlen, but their special bodies still provided them with a distinct advantage. Whether slashing open a throat or barely nicking a shoulder, the results were always the same. Highly toxic to the ghatins, their blades might as well have been pumping acid directly into the wounds.

  Ghatins scattered, a mass of white whirling in full retreat. They didn’t dare fight the lerwicks in these close quarters, but they too had advantages of their own. Scurrying up the walls like a swarm of white crabs, they looked down from the rooftops. Like a storm, their white flesh blades came raining down from multiple angles. Unlike the lerwicks, the ghatins’ blood was pure. Their blades were thick and long, significantly longer than those of the enemy. As long as they kept at a safe distance, they could maintain a constant reach advantage.

  Impaled lerwicks dropped to their knees, innards and blood emptying into their own hands as they clutched the gaping wounds. Ghatins shrieked like blown whistles, their bodies erupting in blue flame while flesh blades carved into buildings, causing walls to crack and roofs to cave in. Back and forth the battle raged. This was nothing like the assassination of helpless humans that took place before this. The lerwicks were more than formidable, and the ghatins would have to fight hard to fend them off.

  *

  The formation of ravens soared through the air. Shielding her eyes from the icy winds, Viola scanned the countryside while trying to assess the dire situation. And dire it was. Towns burned, villages reduced to rubble in the wake of the ghatins’ endless march. But the ghatins’ numbers were not infinite, and spread as thin as they were, it would take years if not centuries to lay waste to the realm as was their plan. Still, they seemed to be off to a good start.

  “Not all is lost,” Salina said, calling back to Viola as they rode. “Many villages are still untouched. We still have time.” It was true, many appeared to still be intact. At least that brought Viola a small measure of relief. Although the humans had yet to prove they could resist the ghatins in any way, crushing every city and village was not going to happen overnight.

  “Look at ‘em,” Owen shouted over the wind from his seat behind another spiritist. He was speaking to Liam riding nearby, but the mystic wasn’t paying any attention. Instead, Liam had his eyes closed, clinging for dear life from the back of his mount. The spiritist in front of him just rolled her eyes, constantly slapping at his too-tight grip around her waist. “All of ‘em homeless, forced to leave everything behind. At least they escaped with their lives.”

  Liam’s eyes cracked open just a hair as he dared to take a peek at what Owen was talking about. The roads below were packed with folks fleeing from their homes. Women carrying frightened children shuffled along, their husbands out in front with everything they could carry loaded into wheelbarrows. Elderly couples sat on the side of the road, exhausted and unable to push on. Crying in each other’s arms, all they could do was hope that some kind soul would make room for them in a wagon or on horseback. But in all likelihood, they knew they were probably sitting on their own graves.

  As far as the eye could see, the scene was all the same. Word of the ghatins’ march had spread like wildfire, and nearly every town had been evacuated. At least if the humans scattered themselves across the countryside, it would take that much longer for the ghatins to get them all. Truly a desperate plan based on a desperate reality.

  “Has it really come to this?” Liam muttered to himself, forgetting all about his fear of heights as he gazed down from the sky. “How can this be? Have we really lost the realm to these demons?” He wiped a tear from his eye, balling his fist as he clung even tighter to the spiritist in front of him. No. No, I refuse to believe we have lost already. If the ghatins want to wipe us out, then we shall make them work for it. We will fight to the last man, I swear it.

  “We are almost there,” Salina said, reaching back to nudge Viola. It was odd that Viola could be this close to her home city and still not recognize the area. Even after living there her whole life, she had never been allowed to venture outside the city limits. In a way she was a stranger to these parts, but still could not deny her reservations about seeing her old city again.

  “I never thought I would return to this place,” Viola said. “It was a dark time in my life, and I don’t really wish to remember any of it.”

  “I understand, but it won’t take long,” Salina assured her. “We just need to make a pass or two over Redwater to assess the situation. But from what we have seen so far, I see no reason to doubt that the rumors are true. The city is probably lost. The ghatins’ reach has been more widespread than we—” Salina went stiff, her eyes going vacant. Viola knew that look and considered reaching around her to grab the straps. The spirits were speaking to her, and the transfer of information could be distracting at times. The timing felt pretty bad considering they were flying hundreds of feet in the air.

  “Viola!” she shouted, her eyes snapping back into focus after only a few seconds. “It’s your brother!”

  “What? What about him?”

  “The rumors are true, Redwater has been seized. The spirits have just confirmed as much to me. But the ghatins who occupy the city are also under siege. Your brother and his band of lerwicks have gone on the offensive. They are attacking the ghatins as we speak!”

  How could that be? Jarlen would never do anything to help the humans, would he? But the spirits had confirmed that he was doing just that. There was only one way to be certain. “We must hurry!” Viola ordered, signaling to the others to follow closely. She could practically hear Hamas’s voice in the back of her head. You either face them now as a united force, or end up on the wrong side of a widespread witch-hunt. But face them you will. Had Jarlen come to the same conclusion? No matter what her brother had done in the past, if he had made the choice to fight the ghatins then she was obligated to help. After all, it was their destiny.

  *

  The lerwick’s face contorted in agony as the white blade erupted through the front of his chest, his trembling mouth hanging wide open but unable to make a sound. Mercifully, his eyes glazed over as several more shredded his body, spraying the ground in a gush of red. He was dead long before he e
ver hit the dirt. The ghatins’ range was nearly double that of the lerwicks, and they were using their advantage with frightening efficiency.

  After watching yet another of his men fall, Jarlen looked up to the rooftops where most of the damage was coming from. Snarling, he took off running, reaching his top speed after only a few steps. Ducking and weaving, flesh blades impaling the ground all around him, he leapt into the air and began to twirl upward. His whirling funnel of screeching black birds cried out, their angry war cry echoing through the streets.

  Landing on the rooftop, Jarlen’s whirling form began to melt into shape just as an opportunistic ghatin struck at his shapeless mass. His fluid form split in half, effectively dodging the white blade as it streaked straight through. Snapping back together like parted water, Jarlen’s true form took shape with both hands wrapped around the blade. The ghatin’s pink eyes widened with horror as he realized his tactical error. Even in that shapeless form between man and birds, Jarlen was still plenty functional and dangerous.

  Jarlen hammered his fist down on the blade, snapping it in two. Then with a twitch, his own blade slashed across the ghatin’s neck. With the fatal wound already beginning to smolder with black smoke, Jarlen shouldered past the shrieking ghatin and charged across the rooftop. Already starting to abandon their positions, the white men slashed wildly, a desperate effort to try and keep the rushing warrior at bay. Or at least buy a few more seconds so they could escape. They were able to hold their own just fine from a distance, but this close-quarter fighting was the last thing they wanted. Barely a nick from these toxic lerwicks could kill.

  His heart racing as the bloodlust took hold, Jarlen felt something inside of him snap. Streaking after these ghatins, his rage had suddenly reached a boiling point. Forgetting himself, forgetting his immediate task, he was no longer on the rooftops of Redwater. As his surroundings seemed to fade away, he found himself back in the pit, fighting for his life to entertain the humans. He could hear their laughter raining down from the seats above, hear their taunts, their groans of disappointment each time he cheated death by the skin of his teeth.