Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  “I have faith in them,” she replied, still unable to keep the doubt from her voice. “They are the readiest of the bunch. I hated having to ask this of them, but we have no choice. We can wait no longer.”

  “They knew what they were signing up for when they came to join you,” Liam said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve done your best, now it is up to them to shine under your instruction.” He looked around, watching as more spiritists came out of the tower. They moved towards the ravens, performing one last inspection. The time was drawing near.

  “Just a bit of advice if you’ll accept it.” She looked up at him, listening intently. “I’ve led enough soldiers in my day to know the absolute truth of what I’m about to tell you. All men have a sort of survival instinct, for lack of a better term. Soldiers become highly tuned with the one in command, almost reading their thoughts, feeding off their perceived confidence...or lack thereof.

  “You must appear poised and confident at all times. Let them see your unwavering conviction even if it feels like a lie. Because that lie is going to save their lives. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Viola replied. “That’s exactly what Thatra would have said.”

  “Indeed she would have.” He smiled down at her.

  “Saddle up!” one of the spiritists shouted, climbing up onto her own raven.

  Unsure, the lerwicks glanced back at Viola. After a reassuring nod, she led the way. They knew the drill: one lerwick riding at the back of each spiritist near the middle of the formation. The outer ring of spiritists would carry no riders. Their job was to carry out assaults by air, mainly to be used as distractions.

  It was hard to develop tactics for an enemy few understood, but it was the best they had come up with.

  “You don’t have to go,” Viola said, cutting Liam off as he marched towards his mount. “Honestly, I would feel better if you stayed behind. At least then I would know you were safe.”

  “What?” Liam said, bringing a hand to his chest in a mockery of hurt feelings. Although she was being serious, Viola couldn’t help but laugh. “And miss all the fun? Not on your life! I’m afraid you’ll just have to be mad at me for a while.” With that, the spry old man raced away and hopped up on his raven. He had been practicing, and was fairly certain he could ride one these birds unaided.

  A minute later, the riders were all mounted and ready to go. A flickering lightshow led the way as the war birds took flight, carrying their riders off into the sky. The time for planning and talk was over. It was time to initiate the first strike.

  *

  Hair snapping around in the wind, Viola led the formation through the clouds. The goal was to try and remain hidden for as long as possible. The cloud cover was not consistent, so she often found herself steering them well off course in order to stay covered.

  Nearing their destination, Viola broke formation and guided her mount down to help get a better idea of how close they were. Sure enough, she could see the city off in the distance, only a mile or two away at most. But when she looked straight down, her heart skipped a beat. It was exactly what she had expected, the reason they were here, yet seeing it with her own eyes was somehow much different than anything she had imagined.

  Like a rushing white river crashing over stones, the ghatins were on the move and heading right toward the city. Their ghostly bodies moved at such a frenzied speed, far beyond anything she believed they were capable of.

  But at the same time they were graceful, instinctual, deliberate in their wild advance. As if sharing a single mind, a single thought process, a dozen would move to one side at once, then go streaking back the other way in a wavelike pattern. Nearly hypnotized by their natural harmony, Viola couldn’t help but think she was watching a school of fish moving gracefully through the ocean.

  No, not fish. Hamas was right, their instincts and movements are exactly like birds.

  She rose back up into the clouds before they could spot her, and motioned for the others to follow her lead. Up they climbed, rising until they broke through the upper line of clouds. The air was thin and the ravens’ wings pumped hard to stay aloft.

  Even with the sun dipping halfway below the horizon, a deep orange light washed over them in a bleeding wave of color. The cloudy floor rolled below them, each cottony wave reflecting the orange like a magical ocean. The pure beauty of it all made Viola’s heart ache, made her want to fly off into the sunset and never look back.

  But as tempting as that was, her heart would never lead her down that road. They were at war, and the lerwicks had the chance to drop the hammer and strike first. If they moved now, the humans of Shadowfen just might live to see another day.

  One fight at a time...

  “Now!” she ordered, guiding her war bird into a dive. Fanning out to either side, the other riders followed. Icy mist peppered their faces as they ripped through the clouds. Seconds later, the formation burst from the sky like an army sent by the gods themselves.

  Wind whistling in their ears, stomachs rising as they gained speed, the ground quickly came rushing up to meet them. No doubt they had attained the element of surprise. Now to take full advantage with a quick and decisive strike.

  Suddenly, Viola’s eyes widened and she was forced to slow their advance. What was this? Their perfectly planned assault stymied as they watched the front gate creak open. Why in the world would the humans open…

  Jarlen appeared, his confident swagger obvious even from this distance. At his back marched a large number of lerwicks, possibly his entire force. What were they doing here? With practically all their attack speed lost, Viola quickly waved off the attack. Pulling up only to begin circling the city, all they could do now was watch.

  Say this is really true, Viola thought, watching with hopeful intrigue. Please, I want to believe. Was it possible? Had her brother finally decided to side with the humans? She held her breath, her mind already racing to improvise a new plan to aid him from above.

  Thinking fast, she motioned her men to circle back, promptly cutting off any possible retreat.

  The wave of ghatins halted, immediately recognizing the trap for what it was. But it was too late. Pink eyes bounced between the threat in the sky and the impending danger standing right before them. It was strange to see what fear looked like on these creatures. Thoroughly shaken, their bodies rippled like blankets in the wind. They swayed in place, not sure which way to go. They were trapped from all sides.

  Flesh blades extended, Jarlen and his men advanced. Surrounded, their retreat cut off as Viola’s troops hovered in the sky from the back side, they began to cluster. Viola could see Jarlen talking to them as he drew closer, most likely taunting his prey as he was prone to do. Everyone knew he enjoyed mentally torturing his opponents before finishing them off.

  Jarlen raised his hand, signaling to his general to give the command. When Tobias stepped forward, then sidestepped to the right, the line of men and women at his command crossed their blades. “Front and rear lines,” he barked, raising his flesh blade up over his shoulder, “commence Red Stone.”

  All at once, the lerwicks dropped down to one knee, their flesh blades retracting back into normal arms. Heads bowed with sheepish grins, none of them moved a muscle.

  Jarlen turned sideways, his smile matched only by those of the ghatins in front of him. “The humans city is yours,” he growled, pointing to the open gate behind him. “Just be sure to leave none alive.” In a wave of white, the ghatins surged past the lerwicks, funneling into the helpless city who had all but invited them in.

  “No!” Viola screamed, watching in horror as the betrayal unfolded. How could she have believed for one second that he would actually do what was right? I am such a fool! Ghatins drifted through the streets, smashing doors and windows as they moved with speed and precision. Only a few seconds had gone by, and already the streets were running red with human blood. Swift and frighteningly efficient, they threatened to purge the city in a matter of min
utes if nothing was done.

  “That snake! I’ll skin him alive the moment I—”

  “Enough of that,” Liam warned, the lone voice of reason in the middle of this disaster. Circling opposite her, he had to shout over the rushing winds to be heard. “We’ve already lost the element of surprise, and the carnage is well underway. So forget about him and start worrying about those we can still help. We cut our losses and act now!”

  As much as she hated it, Viola knew he was right. The safety of the city had to take priority, no matter how bad she wanted to go after Jarlen. She turned and signaled the lone spiritists with no riders. The situation had changed, but their basic strategy remained largely the same.

  Circling the outer edge of the city, the riders dropped their frosty white spheres. One by one they smashed along the streets below, their misty white steam rising up like fog off a swamp. The mist began to spin and twist as ghostly white faces appeared within the living funnels.

  Moving with purpose, the living tornadoes thrashed their way down the streets, working the outer rim of the city and driving the ghatins toward its center. The funnels could not kill them completely, but their energy could still disrupt their bodies. The effect was only temporary, but that was good enough.

  “Send them in!” Viola ordered. It was working, the ghatins were retreating toward the center of the city to regroup. Spiritists carrying riders made a slow pass overhead. Their riders jumped, drifting down in black funnels. The cawing birds began ripping through the herded ghatins, their bodies bursting into blue flame and ash with even the mildest of bites.

  And just as fast as the ghatins had penetrated the city, they suddenly found themselves on the losing end of a one-sided battle. With all things being even, they really were no match for the lerwicks. Only time would tell if they could sustain this push.

  “Not you!” Viola shouted as Liam began to ride toward the city. He pulled up and circled back, wondering why she wanted him to stand down. “We have this under control.” He could certainly see that much, as blue flame and ash seemed to be flashing all over the main street. “Liam, I need you to go after him. Don’t let him get away! He must be held accountable for what he did here today.”

  Nodding, he snapped the reins and went streaking after the fleeing army.

  Reluctantly, Viola flew off in the other direction to join her men. They were doing quite well on their own, but casualties of any kind were unacceptable if she could prevent it. Dropping off her mount, her whirling funnel form drifted down into the fray. If she could not exact revenge against Jarlen, she would take it out on what was left of these demons instead.

  *

  Jarlen dashed along the landscape, his lerwicks right behind him cackling with glee. He was quite proud of his deception, and proud of his men for not showing their hand too early. In the end, Diovok’s offer just wasn’t good enough. Yes, Viola and her army were a serious problem, but one he believed he could handle eventually if his army kept growing. For now, better to just let the ghatins wipe out Diovok, and possibly the largest remaining human stronghold in existence.

  Oh, but he wished he could see Diovok’s face. But the shaman was probably dead by now, which was the main goal anyway. A known dead enemy was worth considerably more than a tentative promise made by that same enemy.

  Perhaps you would have held up your end of the bargain, perhaps not. I suppose we’ll never know.

  With a sudden tingling sensation, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. As the warrior’s survival instincts flared like a horn, he dove to the side as the ground around him erupted in rolling flames. Tumbling along the grass, he swatted at his legs to extinguish his clothing. He was singed a bit, but nothing much worse than that.

  His panicked lerwicks scattered, all running about in different directions. What was that explosion and where had it come from?

  Sitting high on his war bird, Liam circled back around for a second strike. Viola had given him clear instructions, and he intended to see them through. Jarlen needed to die.

  Raising his staff as he swooped in again, he began the necessary chant. The concentration needed to cast while moving, let alone riding on the back of a flying beast, was beyond extreme. But the crafty old mystic was able to do such things through sheer will alone.

  But Jarlen was no stranger to magic, either. He understood the limits of such advanced spell casting. Instead of fleeing his pursuer as anyone else would have, he charged, rushing straight toward the low-gliding bird.

  Eyes half closed, mind lost in focus, Liam’s concentration vanished as the bird jostled beneath him. Still twenty feet in the air or so, he suddenly realized there was an extra rider clinging to the underside of the raven. Before he could react, a flesh blade erupted up through the bird’s back, the bloody point rising up between his legs. The dead raven went into a spin as it hurtled towards the ground.

  Not knowing which way was up or down, Liam clung to the reins with everything he had. The first jarring impact loosened his grip, and by the second bounce he was unsaddled, rolling along the grass. When he finally stopped moving, he lay on the ground while trying to catch his breath after the violent tumble. Understanding the desperate need to get to his feet, he tried to sit up.

  A flesh blade snapped up to his neck, prompting him to settle back down. Jarlen loomed over him with a sneer. It was over...

  He had gambled, grown reckless in his pursuit of this most dangerous man, and now he was about to pay for it with his life. Lerwicks converged, and in a blink he was surrounded by flesh blades. Fighting against their own bloodlusts, it was all they could do not to finish the job. But they needed to follow their master’s lead.

  “Go on then,” Liam rasped, his throat dry, body bruised and beat up from the fall. “Save your gloating, and let’s get this over with.”

  “You humans,” Jarlen said, pressing his blade against the side of Liam’s cheek. A line of red seeped from the shallow cut. “You’re always in such a hurry to die, as if there is some hidden glory to be found in your pitiful sacrifice.”

  “Disguise your own fear of death any way you choose,” Liam replied. “I do not fear my end, for I have served the light to the best of my ability. My only regret is that I won’t be around to watch Viola slit your throat.” He turned and spit a glob of red onto the ground. His statement was true to be sure, but that wasn’t his biggest regret. He always suspected this journey would take his life sooner or later, but he had silently hoped to help Viola see it through to the end.

  I’m sorry I failed you, Viola. But I know you are strong enough to finish this without me.

  Jarlen pulled back his blade, further nicking Liam’s cheek in the process. Blood flowed freely, trickling down the side of his neck. “And what purpose would killing you serve?” Jarlen growled, drawing closer to the old man. “Revenge, perhaps? A way to cause Viola further heartache due to her inexplicable fondness for you and your kind? Tempting, I assure you.”

  He glanced left and right. Reluctantly, the lerwicks retracted their blades and moved away. Now just he and the mystic, he sat down on the ground in front of the old man. “I grow sick of this endless game, Liam,” he said, his voice sounding drained. “How much longer are you going to keep underestimating me? You seem to think I am pure evil, driven only by sadistic revenge. But that is simply not true. Believe it or not, I am not driven by my emotions. My true motives have always been simple and straightforward.”

  A bit startled by this new development, Liam paused before saying anything. Not only had Jarlen not killed him, but he was indeed telling the truth. At least, he appeared to believe his own words, anyway.

  “How can one such as I have survived this long while being the wild, animalistic killer you claim me to be? You still have no idea what motivates me. Yes, I kill when necessary. And I even admit that I draw a certain pleasure from it. But I don’t kill just to kill. And most importantly, I never take risks when it comes to my own survival.”

  “You betrayed S
hadowfen! You practically handed the city over to the ghatins.”

  “I betrayed Diovok,” Jarlen corrected, “effectively eliminating an old enemy who would have come for me sooner or later. Again, my motives were clear.”

  “You killed hundreds of humans,” Liam snarled. “And that number would have been in the thousands had we not stopped them in time.”

  “Irrelevant,” Jarlen shrugged. “The humans are not essential to my survival. Again, you misunderstand what is right in front of your face.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before they come for you too,” Liam said, his voice dripping with ice. A part of him almost wished he might still be around to see that day.

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Jarlen hissed, grabbing Liam by the collar, pulling his face close to his. “And that, old friend, is the only reason why you are not dead. As I told you, I am a survivor. But I believe that instinct may have reached a critical point where I must make some adjustments to my thinking.”

  Leaning in, he began whispering in Liam’s ear. With no choice in the matter, the old mystic was forced to listen to every word.

  *

  “Liam!” Viola shouted, running up to the mystic when he came hobbling through the front gate. It had been a one-sided victory. Humans had died, but not a single lerwick had fallen. “What happened to you?” She looked him over, seeing that he taken quite a beating. Obviously his mount was gone, but she made no mention of it.

  “Don’t worry about me, dear,” he said, just able to force a weak smile.

  “Jarlen?”

  “He-He got away,” Liam mumbled, eyes dropping to avoid her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, looking over his bumps and bruises. “We’ll get another chance. I’m sure we haven’t seen the last of him.”