Rancor: Vampyre Hunter (Rancor Chronicles)

by James McCann

  “Ta gods? What madness in such belief! If dey be real, would dey noy ask, noy, demand us to love one another?”

  “Thoy demand is noy ’ere, Rancor. Especially–” Kendil fell short, suddenly unable to meet his sibling’s gaze.

  “Especially? Tell me.”

  “I ’ave seen ya change,” Kendil whispered, still without meeting his brother’s gaze.

  Rancor turned away. “Roy! Ya eyes trick ya!”

  “What would da gods ’ave granted ya such power, and such mercy, if da ’ad meant ya to live ya life as one o’ us?”

  “And what o’ you? Did da gods mean ya for dis bane? Let us both flee da evil in which we live.”

  “Ma blood dances when it spills another. ’Tis only yours da mourns.”

  “Ansgar will kill ya should you stay.”

  “I will bear them false witness. I shall bear ya put a spell on me.”

  “And if the Council does not believe you?”

  “I shall die.” Kendil placed his hands on Rancor’s shoulder and whispered, “I was born Alsandair, and will noy die anything but.”

  “So dis means–”

  “Farewell, dear brother.” Kendil embraced Rancor and sighed. “Take with ya this.” Slipping a ring from his finger, Kendil placed it in his brother’s hand.

  “Your wedding band! What would ya one tink should she noy see it on ya?”

  “She cares noy for me as I ’ave noy love for ’er. It should be worn for love, and you, Rancor, will find da love. Go. Now, before ’tis too late.”

  Rellik opened the box and took out his brother’s band.

  He remembered his indecision that day, and the fear he could not overcome. How could he leave the only life he had known to venture into a world he did not understand?

  Most of all, he recalled what he had seen when he returned, too afraid to leave the only people he knew as family. The only place he had called home.

  Ansgar, standing on the gallows, pushed Kendil to the ground. He glared at his son and sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. First he shouted to his son, “Ya were in charge, Kendil!”, and then to his people: “Ma kinsmen, ya ’ave come dis dawn ta witness our gods’ vengeance. But woy we ’ave found is ta betrayal o’ one o’ us. We ’ave war ahead, and t’would do us much impudence ta engage our enemy before we ’ave appeased ta gods.”

  “’ow are we ta appease ta gods woy no sacrifice?” shouted a clansman.

  Kendil looked at his kinsmen, then at his father. “Ansgar, ’tis noy ma fault! Rancor poy a spell on ma dat made me ’elpless.”

  Ansgar turned to the villagers who had gathered at the gallows. Drawing his sword, he raised it to silence them, and said, “Ma people! De escape is noy me son’s burden, but ’is brother’s. Doy no blame Kendil for dis travesty, lest you shall feel de wrath a’ ma steel!”

  “We came for a sacrifice!” called another voice.

  “And so shall there be one.” Ansgar brought the tip of his sword to rest on his son’s neck. “Kendil o’ the Alsandair, we be noy a clan da blames our kin, but we be one da dies for our corruption.”

  The crowd cheered so loudly with approval that a rumble from heaven went unnoticed. But what did not go unheard was a voice that said, “Corruption? What da ya know o’ dis?”

  They turned to the cave. Standing upon its roof, Rancor stared at them. Silence again took hold over the clan.

  “Brothers!” Rancor said. “What be dis madness? Ya so bloodthirsty ya wode sacrifice an innocent man in place o’ two who only wished ta right ya wrongs?”

  “Ya must be as daft as ya are weak,” Ansgar snarled.

  “Daft? Ya are about ta ’ang ya son, because he let ma free people who acted noy different than you would in deir place?”

  “Rancor, ya confuse self-righteousness foy honor. Did ya not participate in da slaughter? Do ya now believe da because ya set two free, ya are absolved of the six ya murdered?”

  Rancor sighed, and looked at each of his kinsmen. In their eyes he saw himself and found his destiny in their damnation. “Per’aps I shall never escape ta evil within ma.”

  “I can tell you woy makes dis man unlike us,” Kendil spat. “Rancor, ya ’ave already escaped our evil. Dis clan wonders woy it is ta make you unlike us? Simply this: unlike da Alsandair, ya hates da sin within ya.”

  “Kendil is under a spell again!” This time the unknown voice was softer.

  “I see truth fa da first time since I opened ma eyes as a babe. And I know ma brother is absolved o’ our sin.”

  Ansgar laughed. “We shall test such virtue. We shall kill but one man, and you, Rancor, shall decide which.”

  Rancor bit his lower lip and stared at the sky. His brow furrowed as he whispered, “I surrender ma life. Set ma brother free.”

  “Noy! ’Tis I who should die,” Kendil said.

  Rancor leaped from where he stood and ran to the gallows. He stood before his brother and smiled. “Would it be anything less than just for us ta die together? Let’s both go ta Other World, and see woy honor waits us there.”

  Kendil took his brother’s hand. “We die together, as it should be. If kindness be a sin, I take its punishment gladly. Thank ya for finding that virtue in ma.”

  “We meet our end with honor.”

  But though it was an end for Kendil, there was no such escape for Rancor. Rancor had spent a week on the gallows, swinging next to his brother’s lifeless body, the memory of his brother choking to death echoing in his mind every hour of every day. When at last his kin came to release him, to bind him in shackles and take him to his father’s tent, he went without a fight.

  As Ansgar paced inside the tent, his muscles tensed like rocks. “I cannoy understand the likes o’ ya. I trained ya ta be one o’ us. Why deny woy I ’ave taught?”

  Outside, two armed guards barred the tent’s entrance. Throughout the village, Rancor’s clansmen waited for the sentencing of the first man to have survived the gallows.

  “’Tis not me birthright. I was never one o’ you. Not in mind, not in spirit, not even in ancestry.”

  “Did Kendil tell you we stole you from another clan?”

  “’E did noy. ’e did noy ’ave ta.”

  “You are Rancor o’ the Wulfsign, not Alsandair.” Ansgar spoke softer this time. “What I tell ya is truth. I stole ya from a village o’ demons.”

  “Tell me of them.”

  “T’was during our spring move. Da land we ’ad settled te previous autumn no longer provided food, so we sought fertile ground. We came upon a valley we could ’ave settled fa generations, but we ’ad first ta drive out a clan tat was already settled. The Alsandair ’as never been defeated in war, but we came close tat day. But dese were noy men we fought. Tese were demons thoy could turn to a wulf at will.”

  Rancor rubbed the shackles that bound his wrists to his ankles. Thoughts about the week he had spent hanging were no more than a blur, and he wondered how his life could have changed so fast. “Demons? Thoy were ma kinsmen.”

  “After te battle, I ’appened upon an infant. I stole ’im. Tat is, I stole ya, and raised ya as one o’ us.”

  “Ta learn our weaknesses–ta exact revenge?”

  “Ta bring ya power ta our blood-line. What I ’ad noy counted on was ya weakness.”

  “Is kindness a weakness? Is mercy a weakness? Is virtue a weakness?”

  “It is when ya Alsandair!”

  “I was nothing more ta ya?”

  “Less, since ya set our prisoners free.”

  “I cannoy ’elp it! Dey ’ad done nothing!”

  His loud outburst rang throughout the village, but was lost in his father’s ears. Unable to look at him any longer, Ansgar answered, “I amn’t going ta understand ya. Ya could change into te wulf, break ya bonds, kill us all, should ya despise us so. Why would de gods ’ave granted a man like ya such power?”

  “Per’aps dey knew I wouldn’t use it. I ask again, what will ya do with me? A man who shall no longer live as you ’a
ve taught?”

  “I shall banish ya. All ya are is a failed trial. Ya noy me son. Ya sword shall stay ’ere, given ta one o’ me flesh. I will give ya a sword crafted by ya kind, per’aps even by ya father. Ya shall be banished for ya mercy.”

  “And this time I shall leave. Tis time I shall be free.”

  Ansgar laughed. “Free? Ya shall be damned by our memory. Ya shall never know freedom!”

  Rellik looked to the heavens, praising God for having it in His will to banish him from the Alsandair. And he begged for it to be in His will for him now to find a place that he could call home. He stared at his wedding band the same way he had stared at his brother over a millennium ago. He closed his eyes, wishing he could find a part of that identity still in him.

  Wondering if he could complete his mission without it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Beer. Loud music. Dark rooms. Obnoxious people. This was the part of high school life that Lara was going to miss. With beer in hand, she wove her way through the crowded room. Remind the jocks of what they’ll miss, let the geeks see what they’ll never have. Popularity. Power. Control.

  The room spun just enough to make everyone sound interesting, and the bass on the dance music gave the room that special vibe that totally turned her on. Moving through the crowd, she found her way to the couch and sat beside Gord. Lara handed him a beer.

  Gord took a swig and leaned in to kiss her. Lara saw they had an audience, mostly the geeks. Lara leaned in to kiss him back and noticed his eyes were rolling into the back of his head.

  “How much beer have you had, baby?”

  He kept making out, even though his lips were nowhere near her. “I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.”

  Lara pushed him off and fixed her blouse. Her heart beat fast and she definitely wasn’t ready to call this a night. One guy, tall, wiry and kinda Bill Gates-looking, stood alone in a corner. Never had a geek before, Lara thought and walked over to him.

  He pretended not to notice as she stared into his pale face. She took another step closer, then another. He had his hand clenched around the neck of a beer bottle, and as she pressed herself against his chest, she took his hand and brought the bottle to her lips.

  “Are you into sharing?”

  He didn’t respond. He finally looked at her. His mouth was slightly open, but barely a breath came out. Lara slowly wrapped her lips around his beer bottle. She tipped some into her mouth. Letting his hand free, she said, “C’mon. Let’s take a walk.”

  “S-s-s-sure,” he stuttered, wide-eyed.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Len-Lenny.”

  Such a geeky name! You were doomed from birth!

  Lara took his trembling hand and led him across the crowded floor, and into the backyard. They walked until they were well into the field and the house was no more than a spot of light in the distance.

  “Massage my shoulders,” Lara commanded. She sat in the grass.

  Lenny came up from behind her and nervously put his hands on her. He started to squeeze, but stopped when Lara cringed.

  “Ow! Come on, Lenny! I’m a real girl, not someone you’ve met in a video game! Do it right.”

  He started poking with his fingers, but stopped again when Lara twisted away from him. “I can’t believe what a loser you are!”

  “I-I-I-I’m s-s-sorry!” Lenny stuttered before he ran back towards the house.

  Lara laughed at him, her voice echoing against the starlit sky.

  She didn’t even hear the footfalls that approached from behind, each one crunching the long dry grass.

  “Follow me, or tonight you will die.” It wasn’t a familiar voice that had spoken. It was deep, raspy and scary as hell. Lara couldn’t move. Footsteps rushed around her until a kid her height, with long dark hair and the most amazing emerald eyes, stood before her. He grabbed her shoulders and asked, “Do you want to live?”

  “Yes,” she said as tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Then follow me, or you will die!”

  Lara pulled free from his grasp. She ran fast as she could toward the house. She did not look back, not even when she heard the sound of metal being pulled from leather. She cried and wailed. A wolf howled, metal clanged against metal, and a scream echoed.

  Lara’s shins hit something hard. She flew forward. Her face smashed into the grass. Mud filled her mouth. She must have landed on her nose, as blood ran down her chin. Placing her palms against the ground, she pushed herself up and slowly turned to see what had tripped her.

  Lenny, hog-tied with a gag in his mouth, struggled for freedom. His eyes begged her for help, as did his muffled screams. Whoever had caught him had sliced open his arm from the shoulder to the elbow. He was bleeding fast. Whoever had caught him was still out there!

  Not so far off in the field, the clang of metal echoed across the prairies.

  Lara screamed, turned to run, but her cries of terror were quickly silenced.

  For as the Northern Lights flashed streaks of green, blue and pink across the sky, she looked up to meet the face of death.

  Alix was dressed in a tight black mini with a red sweater. Her hair was crimped and loose over her shoulders and she wore red lipstick. It was not exactly her usual attire, but Betty had insisted, and Betty seemed to know what boys wanted. As Alix strolled through the crowded room, even over the loud dance beat she heard whispered comments of disdain from girls and appreciation from boys. She stopped when she reached a comfortable spot against the wall.

  “See? Toldja you looked hot!” Betty said, as she sidled up to her.

  “I do, don’t I?” Alix crinkled her nose and smiled.

  Betty laughed and pointed at the couch. “Check it out! Gord’s totally faced AND he’s lost his pants!”

  Both Betty and Alix laughed.

  “I’m going to get a beer. You want?” Betty asked.

  Alix got that look. Her eyes narrowed and she nibbled the inside of her bottom lip.

  Betty prodded, “One beer won’t hurt. You are almost eighteen!”

  “Okay!” she squealed. Betty looked around and found the keg. Three jocks were manning it. When they saw Betty approach, they poured her a beer.

  “Thanks, boys. Got one for my friend?” Betty sang.

  They looked at each other. Then one said, “Keg’s dry. And that one’s special for you.”

  Betty winked at him before handing it to Alix, who asked, “What about you?”

  “Carl must have more in the kitchen. Be right back, baby.”

  Alix looked at the people around her as she sipped her foul-tasting beer. They seemed surreal through the smoke-laden air, each one pounding back drink after drink. Everyone was here, the jocks, the drama club, the geeks and–her. Alone, by the wall. Where was Betty and what was taking her so long? Alix started to walk through the crowd, pushing through the drunken revelers, trying to ignore each time someone grabbed her butt. So this was what she’d been missing by not being popular.

  Eventually she made it to the kitchen, but when she entered, the whole world stopped. There was Betty, wrapped in an embrace with Carl. Wrapped in an embrace with Carl! Tears quivered on Alix’s eyelids. Dropping her beer, she ran from the room and the house. She ran out the back door, into the darkness.

  Alix ran until she stumbled over something wet, sticky and horrible-smelling. The scent overwhelmed her. Falling to her knees, she emptied her stomach. Alix looked down and saw she was crouching in blood. And, as her vision focused to the darkness, she saw the remains of what had to be a corpse.

  A voice from behind her spoke: “You need not fear. Your prayers have been answered.”

  Alix couldn’t move a muscle. She tried to scream but had no voice. She shivered and again felt nauseated.

  The man walked to stand before her, uncaring about what he had stepped into. He was tall, wide and unbelievably muscular. A halberd was strapped to his back. A handgun was holstered to his belt. A machete was sheathed against his chest. He had a
short, spiky box-cut. His square jaw was bearded with heavy, thick, black hair. He reached out and caressed her cheek as tears started down them.

  “Do you want to save hundreds?” he asked.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” was all she could muster.

  Then another voice, Rellik’s, from behind, said, “Run to me, Alix, or you will die.”

  And she did. Alix ran toward Rellik, who stood against the darkness. The man chased after her, his heavy strides loud against the sod. Rellik reached into his coat and drew a long sword. Its blade was crimson, with black lettering and a hilt shaped into the head of a wolf. As Alix drew near, Rellik grabbed her hand.

  When they touched, there was a charge that passed from him to her. The ground itself began to harden and solidify. The air about her froze like black ice. The man who clearly had meant to kill her had disappeared–and so had Rellik.

  Alix closed her eyes and screamed in silence. When she opened her eyes again she was in her room, tucked in her bed, gripping her grandmother’s comforter to her neck for security. She held her eyes shut to ward off the darkness, unable to stop her body from shaking as beads of perspiration mixed with the tears that streamed down her puffy cheeks. Had it been a dream? Never had a dream been so vivid, nor so real.

  She mustered the courage to open her eyes a crack, half-expecting to still be in that field with the giant and Rellik. The wall’s shadowed floral patterns relaxed her. Her room was a sanctuary. She took special comfort in her giant Pooh Bear that sat in the wicker chair, gently showered in moonlight.

  Alix released her grip from the comforter. She rolled on her side, feeling around for her Kleenex box. Grasping a tissue, she pulled it to her face, wiping away the tears.

  Her clock read 4:00 a.m. When had she come home? What had happened with the crazy, sword-wielding freak? What about Rellik?

  Alix rubbed her swollen eyes with clenched fists. Had someone spiked her drink, and she’d just had some psychotic episode? Or had there been a murderous stranger? And what of Rellik and the strange charge that had passed between them?