The swing took a lot out of him. He fell back onto his knees in relief. The limp figure continued flying straight into a wall with a crunch.
“That was amazing!” beamed Marin as she ran over to Umbra to help him up.
“How’d I do that?” Umbra stuttered, looking down at his wildly glowing scar.
“Well look here, a pair of two-bit sorcerers,” Lydia echoed from atop the overlooking roof Umbra and Marin.
She leapt down landing effortlessly on her feet making no noise. Her pale skin glistened in the moonlight. Her cold, dead eyes glanced at Umbra’s glowing brand.
She looked familiar to Umbra, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
Suddenly he realized who the devilish vampire was.
“You’re Micah’s sister!” he concluded, pointing his scythe. Lydia clapped with contempt.
Micah had rarely mentioned her, but from what he knew she was the right age, and looked very similar.
Micah was always been vague in detail of her, and now it was clear why he had kept silent.
“So you know that sentimental, foolish brother of mine! He’s wasting his time!” she spat back at Umbra as she flourished herself to him.
She was wrapped in a revealing black gown. Her pale face and silvery eyes glowed in the moonlight. Her fangs were much larger than the other vampires.
“I know who you are, Umbra and I know you are friends with my brother,” she grinned.
How does she know that?
Umbra and Marin assumed defensive stances. Lydia began to pulse with dark energy as she flexed her lean muscles.
I can’t kill Micah’s sister
“We don’t have to do this!” Umbra insisted as Lydia prepared her attack.
She was ready for blood, nothing would stop her.
FOURTEEN
Meanwhile, Micah was still honing his skills in Heartless Swamp. For days now he had pushed himself further with his training.
He was growing more and more impatient.
He wondered every day whether or not Umbra was right, or if it even mattered. Lady Crow was teaching him the skills needed to confront his sister, Lydia.
Does it even matter if she’s evil?
He remembered his sister fondly. They had been separated since Lydia was taken by vampires, that was several years ago.
Since then he arrived to train with Lady Crow a few months after Umbra had. Lady Crow was always a harsh teacher but since Umbra left she was a lot more accommodating, even gracious.
Recently he asked about a vampire cleansing ritual so he could find and heal his sister.
His sister was a few years younger than him and their parents had passed away. He had been left to care for her but he had failed. He carried the weight of that failure heavily, and blamed himself for the people who died because of it.
One day when hiking in the woods they were ambushed by a group of vampires. One had knocked him out and when he awoke Lydia was gone.
He had searched for her for months; following rumors of a female vampire of her description creating havoc in various towns. By the time he’d arrived to those places she was off terrorizing elsewhere.
She had become the leader of the Dark Claw vampire clan and quickly earned a reputation as a brutal monster.
Micah knew this but was determined to save her and return her to the innocent sister he still loved. He realized he’d need to subdue her and know the appropriate rituals to heal her.
That is why he sought out Lady Crow.
He was desperate, but as long as she could teach him how to heal his sister and give him the strength to face her, did it matter if she was a demon?
A sinking feeling had been growing ever since Umbra had left. Lady Crow was pushing him more each day. The lessons had become grueling and excruciating.
He was sure he was near the end of his training and would be ready to confront his sister, Lydia.
Today he was attacking dummies and dodging tombstones in a cemetery while moving at high speeds.
“Faster, boy! You won’t defeat anyone with slow slices!” Lady Crow called out as Micah swung his soul sword at the dummies he had fashioned with magic. “Let’s try something else!”
Lady Crow raised her hands and began pulsing with dark energy releasing a black mist that absorbed itself into the ground. The ground trembled around Micah and skeletons rose from their graves.
They groaned and cracked as they struggled to unearth themselves. Before long they were out and standing ready.
Lady Crow raised her hands once more and with a loud bang and more black mist weapons appeared in the skeletons’ hands.
She pointed at Micah to issue the attack. One after another they stormed him, swinging their maces, swords, axes, and other weapons at him, grunting and moaning as they moved. They weren’t fast but they were very skilled with weapons. Micah suspected these were once soldiers.
“Ah!” Micah yelped as an axe cut him across the cheek.
“Get angry! That’s the only way you’ll win! Harness the dark magic within you!” Lady Crow instructed, standing firm out of the fray.
Micah’s temper was rising as the skeletons chuckled at him. He swung wildly at them but was parried by their weapons. They regrouped to begin attacking him in pairs.
He dodged them effortlessly. His cloak was browned by soil and his collar red from his bleeding cheek. He tried to focus and become angrier.
He pictured his sister being taken away and the vampires that had overpowered him so easily. As his focus grew his sword began to glow red, the eerie blue runes marked across the blade were replaced with different, crimson markings.
The blade pulsed in his hands, a red aura surrounding him. He charged the skeletons swinging his sword, the red light illuminating his face.
His blade cut through one skeleton after another like a hot knife through butter. Even as they blocked with their weapons his sword plowed through them.
Finally the cemetery was calm. He panted as the red aura around him faded.
“And that is what we call ‘Demonic Fury’ a challenging talent, but very effective,” Lady Crow chimed, walking up to Micah who was catching his breath. “Good Job, student, you earned my respect for this display.” Lady Crow complimented.
Her eyes flicked a solid white. Her voice was getting deeper and deeper every day, Micah suspected Umbra was right, but he was desperate to save Lydia. These hard choices would be for the best in the end wouldn’t they?
FIFTEEN
Cassius watched curiously from the shadows as Umbra and Marin struggled to hold Lydia off.
She was much faster and agile than the other vampires and her technique was very similar to Micah’s.
Did Micah teach her unarmed combat as a child? Umbra wondered.
Lydia moved deftly and accurately just like Micah had when Umbra sparred with him in Heartless Swamp. Just like when fighting Micah, he knew exactly what the weakness of this stance was: a solid hit in the right place would slow her down. Now he had to wait for a weakness in her technique.
I can’t kill her, but how do I stop her?
Umbra looked over at Marin, hesitant to step in
Marin cast a stream of water from her hands knocking Lydia over and drenching her. Marin twisted her staff and the water encased Lydia. She stood up still contained in the water cocoon. She waved her finger at Marin and smiled devilishly.
“Marin! She doesn’t need to breathe! You have to try something else!” Umbra exclaimed. He was starting to panic, Marin was powerless against her.
The water dropped off Lydia’s body and Marin began to channel another spell through her staff. She hummed with a blue aura as she gathered her strength.
Lydia turned sharply at Marin and motioned her hand violently; Ma
rin was flung at the wall, knocking her head. Marin’s staff was pulled right out of her hands and flew to Lydia, landing perfectly in her palm. Lydia pointed the staff at Marin to blast her with her own spell.
Umbra couldn’t let her do this. He bolted over towards Lydia running on adrenaline. With one swift motion he swung his scythe down breaking the staff before it could launch the spell.
The staff split in half, the gem sizzling out. Lydia, dropping it swung a fist at Umbra connecting with the back of his shoulder with a wet cracking noise.
Umbra howled as the searing pain shot through his body.
The solid hit to the shoulder had dislocated it. One arm hung limply next to him as he clutched the scythe with the other.
Grimacing from the pain he swung at Lydia with his scythe, which proved unwieldy with his one good hand. Lydia swatted it away effortlessly and landed a punch right in Umbra’s stomach, he gasped for air as he collapsed to the ground.
Lydia snapped Umbra’s pike in half with almost no exertion and dropped the fractured pieces to the floor in front of Umbra. They rattled as they settled on the cobble street.
Umbra looked on in horror as Lydia strolled casually up to Marin with her claws tensed, and her fangs visible. Marin groaned, rolling over but unable to get up.
“Good-bye sorceress, it’s been fun,” Lydia began as she lifted her foot to step on Marin’s neck with her heels.
Noooooooooooooo!
All of a sudden Lydia’s expression froze; a red cut appeared through her neck as her head slipped slowly off and fell to the floor followed closely by her body.
Umbra was on his knee where he had fallen, his scar glowing wildly and a red aura pulsing around him. He swung his hand again in a chopping motion and Lydia was sliced cleanly down the middle as a web of black streaks segmented her.
Umbra let out a sigh of relief coupled with a groan, the heavens began to pour down on them. His powers were growing, but he didn’t understand why.
The soothing rain washed the blood from Lydia’s body and sparkled on Marin as her aura returned. Her powers of revival in rain healed her. She climbed slowly to her feet.
Running over to Umbra, she helped him up, cradling him over her shoulder.
He moved his wet hair aside to look down on Lydia’s body and let out a sigh of relief, but also a feeling of immense guilt.
Micah, I’m sorry, I had no choice . . .
The screams from the city had dissipated and cheers rang out from the soldiers. The conflict was over.
“Thank you! Thank you!” cried out an old man, running over to shake Umbra’s good hand. His other arm still hung limply at his side.
Umbra smiled weakly and nodded. Marin looked contently into his eyes as his dark hair clung to his face. The rain was lashing now, but they were just glad to have survived.
The old man ran off joyously to inform the other citizens. However, once out of sight, the man stepped cautiously into a back alley and with a grunt of pain pealed back his skin. A pale, reptilian-like man stepped out of the folds and stretched his arms in relief. The old man, Cassius, now in his real younger body stepped out of the alley.
He was a young man, with a green tint to his skin. He tensed his body and cracked his knuckles.
“Ahhh, it feels so good to be out of that shell,” he beamed. An evil grin formed across his face. “Time to sow some mischief in Heartless Swamp!” he smirked, walking off into the dark, shaded back alley. The rain gushed off the roofs as he strolled through the downpour, his mind on his next task.
SIXTEEN
Gladius and Fletcher arrived on the scene, their faces drenched by the downpour. “What happened here?” Gladius inquired. He scanned the scene, eyeing the two vampire corpses.
Fletcher had raced over to the fallen soldier to check his pulse.
He shook his head and sighed deeply.
Marin was still cradling Umbra over her shoulder. “Umbra killed these vampires and saved me! One of them was the clan leader!” Marin explained with intensity in her eyes, although half hidden behind her soaked hair.
Umbra stepped away from Marin. “One second,” he promised as he snapped his shoulder back into place.
His face tensed in pain, then relaxed to relief as he moved his arm freely around. “Pretty good for a heretic wouldn’t you say, Gladius?” he smirked, hiding the dull pain.
“Good work. I suppose you have earned my respect for now. I ‘ll sort out your case with the courts. You are free to come and go as you please,” Gladius replied with a nod of respect, concealing his uneasiness.
Fletcher likewise patted Umbra on the back. “Good work kid!” he complimented.
Marin’s smile beamed. She hugged Umbra enthusiastically.
“Let’s go sort this out with the tribunal,” Gladius spoke stiffly as he turned to walk back to the judge’s chamber. Fletcher tipped his hat to Umbra. He smiled at Marin, turning and followed Gladius.
“Umbra, I noticed you having trouble controlling your magic. We should go see my mentor, the wizard, Astralode. He’ll surely help you,” Marin promised as she led Umbra towards the old district of Myst city.
The old district was thick with smoke. Blacksmiths were hammering iron on anvils around hearths, sweat pouring off them; the raindrops sizzled off of their hot brands. They stopped their labor, greeting Marin as she strolled past them.
The cobble streets were worn and cracking as they neared their destination—an old brick tower. When Marin reached the stone doors, she waved her hand. Runes lit up around the doorframe and the door swung ajar.
The circular room inside was crammed with bookshelves wall to wall with a large winding staircase in the center of the span.
Tables and candles levitated in the air, their intricate designs were whimsical, gold swirled patterns and gem-encrusted.
“Astralode! I have someone here to see you!” Marin called up the stairs.
Sure enough an old, bearded man descended the stairs. He wore a purple velvet cloak and a crooked wizard hat. His white beard and jovial, aged face contrasted the solemn expression branded on Gladius’.
“Marin, my dear!” he smiled as she ran to embrace him. “Who did you bring for me today?” he inquired curiously.
He walked towards Umbra and shook his hand, noticing the burnt scar almost immediately. “Judging from the black cloak I’d say you were a necromancer.”
Umbra nodded. Astralode closed his eyes and concentrated, still holding Umbra’s hand. “Hmm, there is a lot of untapped power coursing through your veins, Umbra. I have one serious question I must ask you…” Astralode paused with a solemn expression on his aged face. “Are you Marin’s boyfriend?” he inquired with a goofy grin.
“Astralode this is serious!” Marin exclaimed, her face as red as a tomato. Umbra was taken aback by Astralode’s bluntness, and shook his head slowly.
Astralode released Umbra’s hand and strolled casually over to his book shelf to extract a book. “Give me one second, I need a refresher. How did that astral projection spell go again?” he asked to himself, putting on his reading glasses and opening the book.
“Salt, blood, and Dragon’s bane!” Umbra chimed looking curiously at Astralode.
“Brilliant! My lad, this old man tends to forget things sometimes,” he replied with a cheesy grin. “Okay, well you have the blood. I have some salt somewhere around here, and dragon’s bane… well I don’t have any of that.”
A look of disappointment crossed Umbra’s face. He had left the dragon’s bane with Lady Crow when he left.
“Don’t worry!” Marin beamed. “Astralode is brilliant, he can just conjure some!” she exclaimed with a smile.
“Oh that reminds me, I was scrying with my crystal ball when you were attacked by those nasty vampires and I saw that you broke your staff,” Astralo
de piped up. Marin nodded.
“Well I can always make you a new conjuring vial, my dear,” he smiled as put his hand on her shoulder and walked to the stairs. “You should come too, my boy. I keep all my ingredients upstairs in my study.”
“Isn’t he great?” asked Marin cheerfully.
How did I get stuck with that old hag, Lady Crow as my teacher? Umbra pouted as he followed them up the stairs.
SEVENTEEN
Back at her hideout Robyn recalled the events of her clash with Umbra.
Her cleverly concealed refuge sat nestled in the rocky peaks of the Rumble Mountains. From this secret keep she had a clear view of the area below. A carefully placed bronze telescope allowed her to track targets with ease, even at distance.
She had thrown her chainmail armor on the stone floor of the bricked fortress, which resembled more a prison block than a home.
The stone floor was cold to her bare feet when she kicked her boots off, but she didn’t mind.
This retreat was her sanctuary, her refuge.
The weapon racks against the wall were crowded with glinting steel and silver. Her arsenal was massive. Over the years she had collected every possible weapon she could need during hunts.
Trophies lined the walls, frozen in macabre horror. Werewolf heads, vampire teeth, zombie hands, and drake horns were nailed to wooden plates.
One trophy in particular was the focal point of the room. It was her most treasured possession—the spearhead of the weapon that had killed Zuul.
She believed the legends and kept the relic on display to remind her why she became a slayer.
She had tested the point in battle, but curiously it could wound and stun a demon, but not kill it.
She remained certain that only when combined with its staff would it gain its infamous power.
She was a proud slayer, destroyer of evil and all threats across the land. She saw it as her personal mission to cleanse the land and bring peace. Trained in every form of combat, and every weapon, she fought with brutal efficiency.
The Contracted Soul Page 7