by Jason Parker
Reneac coaxed his horse a few paces forward. “Let’s go get them,” he urged.
Blaze held up an index finger toward Reneac and turned his attention back to the ranger. “The way Whitestorm described them, they didn’t sound like the type to take prisoners.”
“Normally they aren’t, but their leader seems to be able to control them in some way,” the ranger said in his despondent tone. He lifted his head and looked Blaze in the eyes. “He calls himself Vladrik.”
“Vladrik?” Blaze exclaimed. “You can’t mean the Vladrik. That would be impossible.”
“I’m not stupid,” the man said with a bit of irritation entering his voice. “Obviously he can’t be the Vladrik of legend—but that’s what he calls himself.”
Reneac sidled up next to Blaze. “Sir, it doesn’t matter who it is, we have to save the women before it is too late.”
“My companion is right. What his name is really isn’t important right now. Where are the women being held and how do we fight these…infected…as you called them? And, by the way, the woman with Whitestorm is called Tari. My name is Blaze and this is Reneac,” he said pointing a thumb to his side.
“I’m Kulitak,” the man responded, “and I can show you where the women are.”
Kulitak looked intently at the two of them and his eyes widened. “You must be quiet,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes, “and try to stay out of sight.”
“Oh! And as for fighting them—without an army, you don’t—unless you want to be one of them,” he said as the despondency returned to his voice.
Blaze suppressed the urge to argue with him. With Tari and Whitestorm captured by a bunch of people gone mad, time was of the essence. Instead he reached out an arm and said, “Lead the way.”
Blaze and Reneac dismounted, tethered their horses to a nearby tree, and followed Kulitak. They slowly and cautiously wove their way through the cover of tents and stony structures and trees and bushes toward the opposite side of the encampment. They finally arrived at a cleverly constructed spy platform which provided a bird’s-eye view of the external perimeter.
The platform was about ten feet off the ground in a copse of dense foliage and trees. A rope ladder with rungs fashioned from sturdy tree limbs hung down from the platform. Blaze determined the platform was not large enough to hold the three of them. He motioned for Reneac to stay on the ground and followed Kulitak up the ladder.
Upon reaching the vantage point, he was awestruck to see the large collection of people scattered throughout the sparse woods a hundred or so feet from the encampment. He estimated there were about three to four hundred of them. They looked oddly disorganized. Mostly ranger men and women in ragged dress or altogether naked. Some shuffled aimlessly about with a peculiar limp while others stood rigid as stone. A few were armed with crude weapons—sticks and clubs.
A quiet gasp escaped Blaze. He eyed several who were missing limbs and saw arms and legs and faces riddled with untreated wounds, oozing blood and pus.
“These are the infected,” Kulitak whispered in a dull tone.
“How does something like this happen?” Blaze asked to himself as much as to Kulitak.
“The infection is spread by a bite. Something within the saliva,” Kulitak explained. “Once bitten, the infection can take hold within seconds, sometimes longer. I knew someone who lasted half a day. We thought he had somehow beaten the infection, but he eventually succumbed. Everyone who is bitten does.”
“How…how do you stop them?” Blaze asked, unable to pull his eyes away from the dull eye sockets and gruesome images.
“A mortal wound will kill them, just like anybody else. But they are difficult to fight. They are slow but strong and unrelenting. They feel no pain—only fury. For every one you cut down there seem to be two more. What you see here is only a portion of their numbers,” Kulitak said.
Blaze signaled to Reneac to keep his position.
“I came to the encampment to meet with a group of rangers assembling a force large enough to challenge the infected horde,” Kulitak said. He shook his head and paused. “But I see many of those I intended to join are now amongst the group below.”
“Surely there is something that can be done, there must be some way to defeat them,” Blaze said, sensing Kulitak’s mood had fallen further into despair.
Kulitak smiled wanly. “I fight when I must, but I am not an overly brave or reckless man. I have survived by staying alert and avoiding conflict whenever possible. I urge you to do the same. Go back south and return with an army. Alone, you can do nothing.”
He pointed to the right edge of the horde. “I said I would bring you to Whitestorm and your woman, Tari. They are over there next to the man in the black-hooded cloak. He is the one who calls himself Vladrik.” Kulitak scooted back toward the ladder. “I have done as I said and now I am leaving. You should follow me. The women are a lost cause.”
Without waiting for a response, he slid off the platform and descended the ladder. Blaze looked down after him and watched as he wove his way back through the encampment. With a confused expression, Reneac glanced up. Blaze motioned for him to climb up to the platform. He allowed Reneac a moment to absorb the scene and then pointed toward the hooded man, Tari, and Whitestorm.
“What’s going on? What are we going to do?” Reneac whispered, his voice ringing with shock and confusion.
Blaze had no idea how to respond. Before he could speak, the hooded man moved toward their spy post. A pair of infected rangers pulled the women along by a length of rope bound at their wrists.
“Does he know we’re here?” Reneac whispered nervously.
“I don’t see how he could,” Blaze said with little conviction.
“Hello out there,” the hooded man called. “My name is Lord Vladrik. The very same who ruled this land an age ago. Whether you choose to believe me or not is immaterial. I have returned and will reestablish my dominion.”
Blaze and Reneac exchanged glances. Their position was compromised by this insane man. Blaze knew they needed to move quickly to a more advantageous location and regroup.
“Do not bother pretending you are not there. I can smell you. Two, maybe three at the most and from the south just like my lovely guest,” Vladrik resumed, gesturing toward Tari. “My soldiers are surrounding your position as we speak. If you attempt to escape you will die horribly at their hands or perhaps join their ranks.”
“Okay,” Blaze spoke up, “you seem to have us at a disadvantage. Is there something you want from us?”
“Well, today is your lucky day,” Vladrik said with a voice like crushed velvet, dangerous yet strangely reassuring.
He was cloaked in black from head to toe with only his crimson eyes, ruby lips, and pearl white teeth visible from within the shadows of his hood.
“The countenance of death,” Blaze thought. He had unflinchingly faced countless dangers in his life, but this man made his skin crawl. A real life nightmare. He glanced at a grimacing Reneac. He looked like he was about to either puke or piss himself.
Vladrik licked his lips and smiled. “I do, in fact, want something of you. So, today you will not die,” he said and then added with a raspy chuckle, “at least not all of you.”
Vladrik’s words repulsed him. Yet, there was a melodious rhythm behind the repulsion like a siren song. His words cut but Blaze could not avert his ears from the desperate yen to hear more. It was an obscure fascination akin to the seduction of pleasure and pain.
Reneac was sweating profusely.
“Keep it together, soldier,” he urged trying to offer encouragement, but in truth not caring. Vladrik’s voice was all that mattered.
A film of perspiration covered him as well, but it felt cold. He felt cold. He needed Vladrik’s voice to warm him and push aside the void that threatened to encompass him.
“Please, come down and join us,” Vladrik invited, sweeping his arms in a welcoming gesture.
The words echoed in Blaze’s brain. He had
to obey. He wanted to obey. He shoved Reneac aside and scrambled down the ladder, running to stand near Vladrik. Eagerly waiting for his next command.
Vladrik laughed. “The simplicity of the human mind,” he said, his voice menacing, the honey in it gone.
Blaze heard Reneac retching next to him. He felt on the verge himself as a ragtag collection of infected rangers roughly grabbed him and securely bound his wrists together behind him. Another group did the same to Reneac.
“Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Vladrik asked rhetorically, biting.
After a brief pause he continued, “It is so nice to finally entertain guests from the south. I really do grow tired of the northern blood. Southern blood has a certain spice to it that I have been missing.”
Blaze was confused. Why all the talk about blood? What did blood have to do with anything?
Vladrik’s crimson eyes locked onto his as he flashed a playfully malicious grin. “Are you the leader of this little group?” he asked.
Blaze nodded.
“Well leader, you don’t appear to fully understand me. We can’t have that now, can we? Every good leader needs to fully understand his situation. Perhaps I can offer some clarity,” Vladrik said with escalating menace. He drew an ornate silver dagger from within the folds of his cloak.
Vladrik moved a few steps closer to Tari and with a black gloved hand, he grabbed a handful of her hair and roughly yanked her head back, exposing her neck. She let out a yelp as he placed the dagger at her throat. She started kicking and swinging her bound arms at him, but she was instantly confined by a collection of infected rangers.
Aside from their hands being bound behind their backs, Blaze and Reneac were otherwise unrestrained. Whitestorm’s hands were bound in front of her with a tether held by a single infected ranger. Blaze snarled, lowered his head, and rushed toward Tari and Vladrik. From the corner of his eye, he saw Reneac and Whitestorm were also in motion. Whitestorm easily knocked her captor off balance and was raising her fists to deliver a hammer blow to Vladrik just as his sweetly vile voice filled the air—its essence absorbing energy and flight and all other sound.
“Come no closer.”
Whitestorm’s hands instantly dropped. Reneac stopped in his tracks and Blaze felt his own legs halt. In the back of his mind, he knew he should keep going toward Tari, but he felt the overwhelming need to please Vladrik. Everything else was secondary to the command of his painfully delicious voice.
“You, next to the leader,” Vladrik said pointing toward Reneac with his dagger, “join me.”
Reneac immediately complied. Vladrik’s voice made Blaze’s skin tingle with excitement and burn like red incandium. He was jealous Vladrik’s words had not been directed to him.
Vladrik motioned for Reneac to turn around. He acquiesced. Vladrik cut the ropes binding his hands. As Reneac massaged his wrists, Vladrik pushed on his shoulder to turn him so they were once again face-to-face. Vladrik’s red eyes gleamed from within his hood. He offered Reneac a maniacally reassuring smile, handed him the dagger, and nodded toward Tari.
In a swift motion Reneac neatly swept the dagger across Tari’s exposed throat, leaving a thin trail of crimson along her flesh. The trail became a river as blood began to flow and then gush from the wound. Blaze saw a mixture of elation and fear on her face as Vladrik leaned toward her and placed his lips on the surge of blood spilling from the laceration. Tari’s body convulsed as Vladrik eagerly and violently drained the life force from her.
In the deep recess of his mind, Blaze knew this was wrong. He should try and stop Vladrik, but the pull to feel exaltation was overwhelmingly stronger. Both sickened and aroused, Blaze watched Vladrik rip open Tari’s shirt and lick clean the blood that trailed onto her breasts and abdomen.
When he was finished, Vladrik released Tari and let her lifeless body drop like a stone to the ground. He wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand—the black fabric then darkened as he roared with savage laughter, jarring Blaze from his trance. It was like a switch had been flipped.
Blaze regained control of his mind and body. Fury boiled. He stared at the ground toward the unmoving woman he had loved and respected. Bellowing a guttural cry, he charged toward Vladrik. His path was impeded by numerous of the infected groping at him in an effort to stop his advance. With his hands still bound behind his back, he knocked them aside with his head and shoulders, forcing his way through the horde until he was finally overcome and forced to the ground within inches of Vladrik’s feet. Blood from a facial wound ran into his eyes as he twisted his head to the left and saw Whitestorm similarly pinned to the floor of the forest. To his right lay Tari. Reneac stood next to her staring in disbelief at the scarlet stained silver blade in his hand.
“Reneac!” Blaze yelled. “Pull yourself together.”
His shout snapped Reneac from his stupor and he growled at Vladrik. He raised the dagger over his head and charged toward him, his knuckles white from the firmness of his grip. Casually, as if Reneac was moving in slow motion, Vladrik reached out with a gloved hand still wet with Tari’s blood, grabbed Reneac’s wrist, and twisted it sharply down. The knife fell to the ground, almost striking Blaze’s nose as it bounced and finally came to rest with the blood stained tip of the blade pointing toward his eyes. Reneac howled in pain and dropped to his knees as Vladrik shattered his wrist with the sickening crunch of splintering bone.
Still holding onto Reneac, Vladrik sadistically laughed and savagely kicked him in the ribs. Snapping bones reverberated in Blaze’s ears. Reneac slumped over his knees coughing and spitting blood-laced saliva. With a final roundhouse kick to the side of Reneac’s head, Vladrik released his wrist and Reneac fell over in a heap. He lay motionless, but Blaze was relieved to see his chest slowly rise and fall. Still alive.
“Allow our guests to rise,” Vladrik said as Blaze was roughly pulled up to his knees but held securely by four of the infected. Blaze looked toward Whitestorm. She was being pulled to her knees by two others. He made eye contact with her, but she quickly turned her head and looked down.
“Does she think she is responsible for this?” Blaze wondered, sensing guilt in her body language. “Does she have cause to?”
Blaze involuntarily flinched as Vladrik took a step toward him and stooped to retrieve the silver dagger. The sun at Vladrik’s back cast a distorted shadow of his tongue anxiously flickering along the blade meticulously cleaning it of all remnants of Tari’s blood. He slowly licked his lips, savoring the final vestiges of blood as he returned the dagger to the inside of his cloak.
“Ah, how refreshing to have some variety,” he said, looking at Blaze. “Don’t misunderstand, blood is blood is blood and there is nothing quite like it, but I appreciate you breaking up the monotony. As I said before, southern blood has a certain spice to it.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You’re insane!” Blaze yelled, struggling futilely to break free from his captors.
“Hmmm,” Vladrik responded with a sly smile, “calling me insane would imply that I am not responsible for my actions. Believe me, I am well aware of what I am doing. Let’s just say I am a singular creature.”
Blaze took in the circle of death and decay. His eyes landed back on Vladrik. His sensuous voice-like spell had been broken—somehow.
Vladrik strutted about. “Now this one,” he continued, pointing toward Whitestorm, “is a crazy bitch. Oh yes, I know all about you. You destroyed more of my soldiers single-handedly than large groups of rangers. I can smell the strength in you. It emanates from your blood.”
Whitestorm glared at him with her eyes on fire but said nothing. Vladrik laughed, started to turn away from her, hesitated, turned back and savagely slapped the side of her face with the back of his hand. Blaze thought her neck had snapped. Whitestorm just continued to stare at Vladrik, her eyes full of defiance and a watery hint of tears. Then, slowly, blood trickled out of the side of her mouth and down her chin. A reddish purple welt formed on her
cheek.
Vladrik smiled at her, his teeth gleaming between his blood-stained lips. “It would please me immensely to drain you dry, bitch, but I think you would serve me better as a messenger.”
“Go back to your southern rulers,” he continued, pointing a gloved finger at Blaze, “and take your leader with you. Perhaps with him they will actually believe you this time. Tell them my work in the north is nearing completion. Tell them I will be weaving my way south to meet them, leaving a trail of carnage in my wake. Tell them to counter me if they wish, but remind them there will be no wizards or gods to save them this time. Tell them Gandany will belong to Vladrik.”
In a stupor, Blaze wasn’t sure what to think. Could this lunatic really be the reincarnated Vladrik of legend? He certainly commanded substantial power and what he had done to Tari… A fresh wave of anger surged through him as he thought of her. He struggled in vain to break free from his infected captors which further fueled his anger.
“Nice speech, you vile piece of shit,” Blaze shouted. “Let me go and we’ll see how far south you get.”
Vladrik turned toward him and smirked. “Your attempt to goad me is commendable, but misguided. I hold all the cards here. I was going to let you take your broken companion with you, but your name calling has displeased me.”
Vladrik gestured toward Reneac and an infected woman clad in filthy rags shambled toward him. Grunting, she knelt beside his unconscious body and lifted his shattered wrist. After a brief examination of his arm, she grunted again and then bit deeply into the meat of his forearm. Reneac whimpered and his body convulsed. His eyes flashed open as the woman wrenched her jaws and ripped free a chunk of flesh. He screamed then went limp. Blood poured from the wound as the infected woman flung his arm to the ground and greedily devoured her prized piece of Reneac’s flesh. Blaze lowered his head. Tears stung his eyes as he silently cursed himself for his outburst of anger.
“The rate of infection is proportionate to the will of the victim,” Vladrik said, “but eventually, everyone bitten joins my family. I believe your friend has little will left. I suspect he’ll turn quickly.”