Gunship - The Series

by John Davis

  “I wish to face him in the daylight, not for an advantage,” Roman said sternly as his body dropped from horse to ground below. “I simply wish to slay him during a moment in which many eyes can see.”

  For the next few minutes, Roman and Tunak made camp with a small tent of white cloth, while Four and Gore collected any dry wood they could find. In such a rain-filled environment the task proved daunting, but eventually they had collected enough to produce heat throughout the night.

  Vladris knew they were close. He had made the journey several times himself, and knew that they had to be just beyond the tree-line at horizon's end. It also warranted the assumption that Roman wanted his fight during the day, and that sat well with Vladris. He too wanted a thick of witnesses for their battle. And though he knew Sarah would attempt to bring Roman to their cause, the hero among Vampires had a feeling throughout his gut that it wasn't to be.

  So Vladris remained in his chair, dedicating such a quiet night of rainfall and breeze to his thoughts. Though he had no intentions of falling in battle, he knew that if it were to be, he had lived a life worth speaking of. He had known of both lust and love. Known of greed and loss. He stared across the very hills which once worked with Ronical farmers to produce crops to feed their mighty army.

  He remembered the king he served during his mortal life. An honorable man, one that was cut down by the Vampires shortly after Ronica began to fall.

  He remembered, while still in the realm of a mortal, defeating the Hunter champion in battle. His own abilities besting those of the Vampiric legend. Vladris began to wonder if Roman Raines was one such man. Was it meant for Roman to cut Vladris down in battle, ending a life, and along with it the memories of a Ronica that once flourished?

  But soon his thoughts began to turn to Amelia. His love for her had been one of such truthful purity. From the tip of his sword to the bones in his chest, he loved her. Everything he was or would ever be was tied into the woman who would never return.

  And that very emotion, one of horrific loss that would forever remain, was the emotion which allowed him to fight like a lion. As if he were a hundred lions in battle. And as the chills of a loss never-ending began to consume him once more, he knew it to be the truth. Roman Raines could not best him.

  And so he spent the remainder of the night thinking of his beloved Amelia, a life before the rule of Vampires and, of course, the rain. The soothing rain which hit the trees of a distant horizon, bringing with it a sound which calmed the warrior and allowed him to control his anger.

  Vladris was not alone in thought on such a night of pouring rain, however, as Roman also reflected back on his life up until this point.

  His entire family slaughtered for sport at the hands of Hunters. His involvement in killing one of their queens and a life sworn to ending the bloodline of the race which he considered to be the cancer of man.

  Roman did not fear death. A direct effect of having nothing to live for. His only purpose was to slay those who deserved death, and he did so well. By most accounts, Roman Raines was the deadliest warrior alive, but not all of them.

  Many still spoke of Vladris, hero of the Vampires. If he were able to slay the demon of demons, it would not only send ripples of fear through the Vampiric race, but solidify his legend as the greatest warrior to ever live.

  He believed he could do it, and planned to do it alone. Pulling a dagger from his waist, he planted it firmly into the ground of their campsite while the others slept. Then, pulling a necklace from beneath his robe, a key to his shuttle dangling from it, Roman placed it around the dagger's handle. And with that, the Vampire who hunted his own kind walked away from camp and into the direction of a castle not far away. Alone.

  Vladris was first pulled back from his memories with Amelia as a bell began to toll throughout the castle, one the Hunters reserved for the unusual event of an army marching to their doorstep.

  As Vladris stood to his feet, he wondered how fitting it seemed. Roman walking to their castle by himself and to the toll of a bell that signified an entire army. One warrior looking to capture the legacy of another, almost as if two complete armies were nearing battle. Though only two champions stood, less than a hundred yards apart.

  As Hunters began to make their way to the castle's entrance, they soon partitioned off a bit to allow their queen a quick passage to the two warriors who had become locked in a stare.

  “I have long awaited this very moment, even seen it in my dreams.” Roman said, squeezing his fists with crushing power.

  “I respect your courage warrior. Just as I have respected each warrior before you, all of them dead by my hands.” Vladris replied.

  “Enough!” Sarah yelled, approaching the two soldiers of destiny with two soldiers of her own. Escort soldiers who held Troy in chains.

  “It's been a long time Roman Raines.” Sarah said, her demonic tone very soothing by Vampiric standards.

  “Not long enough you crazy bitch.” he replied.

  “Still the feisty warrior. Such a trait will be of great value to me when you bow your loyalties.” Sarah responded.

  “A long time indeed, then, as you've forgotten that I bow to no one.” Roman said.

  “Perhaps,” she replied with a grin, motioning her escort soldiers to remove a hood from Troy's head. “Or perhaps you'd like to rethink your loyalty to me.”

  As Roman laid eyes on Troy, his first reaction was the yearning to pummel those responsible to death. Troy had been like a son to him, at least up until the point of becoming infected with Vampiric DNA. He had purposely avoided contact with the boy from that point forward, hoping to protect Troy from the horrors which now followed him.

  However, Roman's rage soon turned to desperation, feeling as though he had already been beaten in battle.

  “He has no place in all of this. Free him.” Roman demanded.

  “Well that depends on you,” Sarah replied with a heavy tone. “If you bow before me, before all of those which look on at this very moment; in return I will allow the boy to go free.”

  He would be bowing to a bloodline which had stolen everything from him. But if he refused, they would take the one thing he had left. Troy was as much like a son as any boy could have ever been; and worse, he was innocent of any crimes against the Hunters.

  Roman approached the group slowly, taking his massive blade and burying nearly a foot of steel into the moist ground as he continued his walk.

  “That's far enough.” Vladris said, holding his own blade out in order to keep Roman and Sarah distanced.

  “All I know is killing,” Roman said, holding his hands up slightly as a gesture of good faith. “But Troy has a chance to live a life of value. Become something more than all of this,” he added, staring directly into Sarah's eyes. “I need your word that he will be allowed to leave, never to be followed. Never to be brought into this again.”

  “You have it, as long as I have your loyalty.” Sarah quickly replied, a smile beginning to brim across her face.

  “And I need a moment to say farewell to the boy. Given our history, I'm sure you understand that I want to make peace with him?”

  “Make it quick,” Sarah replied. “Cut the boy loose.” she added, turning to her personal escort soldiers, each of them clad in banded steel of black.

  “Don't talk, just listen,” Roman said as Troy approached him. “Take the set of footprints my boots have made and follow them as fast as you can run. Just beyond those trees, not even thirty minutes away, a group of warriors loyal to me have made camp. When you arrive, tell them I've sent you. Tell them I've left a dagger, necklace and dog for you. Have them wait until midday for me, and should I fail to return, they are to lead you to my shuttle.”

  “Roman, I don't want to leave you here. Maybe together...”

  “No!” Roman replied fiercely. “I've always looked upon you as my own son. I can't protect those I've lost, but I can still protect you. Go.” he said, holding his battle-hardened hand out for Troy.
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br />   As the two men locked hands for a moment, showing both respect and truth, Troy turned to begin a sprint for the trees which were only a few hundred yards away. Roman watched the young man run to safety, finally turning back to Sarah and her group.

  “Alright Roman, I've delivered my end of the bargain. Now, bow before me and help us deliver our bloodline to a future of absolute dominance.”

  He had never before bowed. Not to the Gods above, nor to anyone with blood in their veins. And though it hurt as much, if not more, than a defeat on the battlefield, Roman lowered himself to the ground. His knee had never touched ground for the cause of obedience, yet his pants began to saturate just a bit from the rain-drenched soil.

  “Good,” Sarah said with a feeling of accomplishment. “Now rise warrior and join your brothers.”

  As he rose slowly, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, his eyes remained locked onto the queen of Vampires. And with the slightest flicker of his eyes, came a large knife which had been tucked into the back of his pants.

  Sometimes it's unbelievable how a single moment changes the world around us. One second, frozen in time, that has the ability to alter who we are and how we believe.

  As Roman turned his torso, ensuring every ounce of power went into the flight of the knife which left his hands, even the smallest muscles of his body popped to life under his pale skin.

  Though he had bowed, the Hunters still had thought of him a bit cautiously, and that very caution saved Sarah's life. Though the blade struck home, it missed its mark as she slipped to her right. The knife which was meant for the base of her skull, instead drove into the meaty flesh of her shoulder. A wound that would not come close to slaying Sarah, though she screeched as if it would.

  “Protect our queen!” Vladris yelled, turning to face Roman in what was now an inevitable showdown.

  Roman had reclaimed his large blade, pulling the massive handle skyward, its gleaming edge covered with a bit of damp soil.

  “Now you will know of the origin behind my legend.” Vladris said, holding his sword out provokingly.

  “A legend which dies today.” Roman replied.

  “We'll see.” Vladris responded, quickly swooping his blade forward.

  Roman was able to parry the shot easily, though he seemed a bit surprised by the sheer amount of force behind the bite of Vladris' steel.

  Roman then lunged forward, his sword leading the way as he quickly turned the forward strike into a circular motion, chopping toward Vladris.

  However, Vladris quickly stepped back to easily avoid it, stepping back a bit more.

  “You disappoint me Roman Raines. You carry the traits of a Vampire, and still I could have beaten you in the days of my own mortality.” Vladris said in mocking fashion.

  The one thing Roman had learned through his years of fighting was the defining moment. A single breath in which your mind catches up to the body which follows your emotions. A moment when a warrior knows who's better, and as Roman's mind caught up to his extremities, he understood it to be true. Vladris was better.

  He would never admit it, or even show evidence of it on his face. But as Roman's muscular frame fought with all of its might to deflect steady shots by Vladris, he began to grow tired. His hatred for Vampires had fueled his fight so far by rage. However, the rage had began to die out, losing ground to a body that longed for a deep breath and a moment's rest.

  Vladris continued to strike with unrelenting fury, each angling of his blade similar to that of a serpent's strike. And though silver flashes of his blade were visible to everyone else, Vladris only saw one thing. The face of his love lost, Amelia.

  His rage on the battlefield seemed to slow everything down around him, as it did each time he went to war. Literally a lion with sword in hand, the figure of a ghost nearby, her magnificent body shrouded within a satin-blue dress.

  Roman quickly came to understand the warrior he fought against as tears began falling from the eyes of Vladris. Roman was good. Damn good. Yet Vladris struck as though he were a God, piercing shots sapping the life from Roman, not from wounds, but from the simple defense against them.

  The trunk of Vladris' blade hit like a perfectly-forged hammer, taking with it the will of Roman Raines, as he began to understand. Vladris longed to die.

  He had prayed that Roman was the warrior that growing legend spoke of. Perhaps, just maybe, the warrior who was destined to end him; and end his personal suffering in doing so.

  He is not the one. Vladris, you must continue your journey among mortals. For our day will come.

  Words which escaped the lips of Amelia's ghost, standing only feet away from the dying battle before his eyes.

  “Yes my love.” Vladris replied, speaking to a figure which only his eyes saw, leading Roman to think him mad. Not that it would matter as he lay on the ground, sword raised, with only the ability to deflect continuing shots.

  Roman Raines had been bested. And while he lay there, sword lifted and shaking roughly from the trauma of steel exchanged, he considered throwing his weapon and allowing Vladris a chance to plunge bitter-cold steel into him. It would be the perfect punishment for the Vampiric warrior who had so easily defeated him. But it was not to be.

  He was falling close to the end, evident to both Tunak and Four as they rode swiftly to the fight. Their horses covered the open ground at alarming speeds, rushing to aid Roman and his plans to slay Vladris.

  “Riders approach!” a Hunter proclaimed loudly as a dozen or more archers pulled to take aim, the rest of their ranks quickly making way to ground level and, with any luck, the castle gates.

  Both of the warriors who approached on horseback held shields high, arrows meant to end them instead biting into banded leather.

  Vladris had placed himself outside of the castle's gates in order to prove his abilities, purposely keeping any help out of reach. Both Tunak and Four had depended on his confidence as the tool to slay him. And as they rode within feet of the Vampire Elite, both warriors quickly left mount in order to stand on the same sacred ground shared by Vladris and Roman.

  Tunak came in, charging with full-rage as Four quickly hoisted Roman to one of the steeds. A quick slap to the animal sent it sprinting for the nearby wooded area.

  The plan was, Four and Tunak would fight Vladris with the man advantage. Overpower the demon, or at least die trying.

  However, their plan was swiftly cut short as, without the slightest of warning, Vladris thrust his sword forward with incredible speed. Its bite found a mark on the vitals of Tunak, digging into the warrior's chest and pulling his soul out as Vladris jerked his blade loose.

  Four was a huge warrior, and his blade matched quite well. But even he saw no victory. Even if he somehow bested Vladris, dozens of Hunters had now made it to them.

  “You have cost me the greatest moment of my finest victory. For that, your death will not come swiftly.” Vladris said as he walked a small circle around Four, eventually plunging his sword into the ground.

  Four had began to ask if Vladris intended a fight without blade. However, the Hunter Elite was quickly on him, grabbing wrist first, and then shoulder, on his way to the kill. And as Vladris sunk huge fangs into the face and upper-skull of Four, the warrior dropped his massive blade, body jerking uncontrollably from pain redefined.

  “Run them down! Kill them...all of them!” Sarah yelled from her spot nearby as she tended wounds, demanding her champion seek justice.

  Moments later, well over a dozen Hunter Elites thundered past the castle gates on steeds of nightmarish appearance, Vladris removing his sword from the damp ground and quickly grabbing the mount of an empty steed reserved for him.

  “Go my champion, for this is your finest day. The Hunter Archives will long speak of your wrath against our enemies.” Sarah said to herself, proudly watching Vladris and his finest chew up ground as their steeds rode hard into the forest.

  “Help him from his mount, quickly!” Troy said as both he and Gore gently pulle
d Roman from the steed.

  “Is Vladris defeated?” Gore asked, his Husk tone chilling to Troy's ears.

  “Vladris cannot be defeated, this much I am sure of now. We must ride back at once. Inform the others that the Hunters are coming.” Roman replied.

  “But Four, Tunak?” Gore asked.

  “I saw Tunak cut down with my own eyes. Four could not have made it out of there with his life.” Roman said with regret.

  “But he fights like...” Gore began to reply.

  “Vladris stood before him! As did dozens of Hunters. He is not coming back, but the demons are. We must go now!” Roman yelled.

  And with his words, Troy helped Roman back to his mount before joining Gore on their own steeds.

  Moments later they were gone. Riding hard toward the city which Hunters could not take. Marlock. Or so the legends claimed. A claim that would soon be put to the test as Vladris and his group of soul-reavers were not far behind.

  And as the rain slowly turned to snow, an ailing Roman, Troy and Gore raced toward Marlock as though their very lives depended on it, which they did.

  Troy wondered what the future held for him against such an immortal army. How a life of simplicity had stood before him until the early morning hours in which Vladris had snatched him, literally getting thrown into a world of warfare.

  Gore thought of the same thing, every ride to and from battle. Death. He concentrated on what needed to be done in order for him to end up on the right side of the very word of death. On this day, he wondered how he could possibly escape his soul departing a world of mortals, glancing down to a slightly-rusted blade hanging by his side. Quickly remembering the same warriors who mocked it, would give their own lives for him.

  And as the snowfall began to intensify, large flakes flying into the face and peppered hair of Roman Raines, he thought of a second chance. His first attempt to slay Vladris had been a campaign of legacy building.

  And though Roman was a warrior of almost supernatural abilities, that only afforded him the equivalent of a puncher's chance in the grandest fight of all-time.