Above, Khronos ordered his personal guard after me: “Destroy the heretic!”
That might have been the end of me, but at that very moment a group of rebel slaves went running past me towards the God King. None came to my aid, but they kept Khronos and his guards occupied long enough to free myself.
Positioning my legs beneath me, I shoved myself upwards. I could feel the shaft of the weapon sliding through my internal organs, scraping between my broken ribs. I flew up, came clear of the spear, and landed face down in the mud again.
Pushing myself to my hands and knees, I wiped the slimy muck from my eyes. The Living Blood was repairing my injuries as quickly as it could, but the pain was bad, and there was enough tissue damage to slow my movements. I crawled in search of Zenzele, slipping once or twice in my own dripping bodily fluids.
“Zele?” I croaked.
On the wall above, the rebel slaves were still wrestling with the God King’s guards. I saw Khronos fling one of the insurgents to his soldiers on the other side of the wall, then turn to another and smash his head to a pulp. No one was paying attention to me. That was good. That was very good!
The dwelling Zenzele had crashed into had partially collapsed. I crawled into the leaning shack and saw Zenzele on her back. A jagged piece of timber was protruding from her abdomen. She was conscious, clawing at the piece of wood that had impaled her, but she was too weak to extricate herself.
“Zele!”
I rose and tottered toward her.
She looked at me, eyes glazed with pain. “It’s severed my spine,” she groaned. “I can’t move my legs.”
“Let me lift you free,” I said. “Quit struggling.”
I slid my arms beneath her body and she relaxed into my embrace, arms falling limp, head dropping back.
“This will hurt,” I said.
“Just do it!” she gasped.
I lifted her up and off the impaling timber. She did not cry out, but her lips peeled back from her teeth at the pain. I collapsed with her in my arms, trembling from the exertion. My own injuries were grievous.
“Just give it a moment,” I whispered, stroking her hair, her cheek, smearing mud all over her, but what did it matter? I had her! And in just a few minutes she would be whole again. “Let the Blood heal your injuries.”
She moaned as the Strix repaired her spine. I could hear the shattered bones crackling inside of her. It sounded like a mortal popping his knuckles.
“All right,” she said, pushing away from me. “All right, I’m better. I can move my legs again. How are you?”
“Still in one piece.”
“Khronos?”
“Occupied.”
“We must rejoin the battle!”
“A moment longer, my love. Let the Blood heal you completely.”
But we didn’t have a moment longer. As we knelt there in filth, waiting impatiently for our injuries to mend, one of the God King’s guards flung aside the door of the tenement. He was armed with very large and very sharp looking halberd. Grinning at us, he swung the bladed staff up and back over his shoulder, the muscles in his arms rippling impressively. I shielded Zenzele and braced for the blow, squeezing my eyes shut.
An instant later, the man’s head exploded, driven violently into his torso by a colossal stone hammer.
Bhorg wrenched his hammer from the guard’s chest cavity. Blood and tattered flesh dripped from the granite block. The guard collapsed at his feet and began to rapidly decompose.
“What are you two doing in here?” Bhorg asked. “Making whoopee or something? In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a war going on!” He toed aside the guard’s remains, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
I clambered up with a smirk, drawing breath for a smartass retort.
And that was when Bhorg’s head sprang-- quite unexpectedly-- from his neck.
One minute it was there, creased by a lopsided grin, and then it was gone. Bhorg’s five-hundred-pound hammer dropped to the ground with a titanic thud, nearly crushing my foot. A second later, his five-hundred-pound form toppled forward onto me, flying to dust as it fell.
“No-ooooo!” Zenzele howled.
I fumbled for his body instinctively, trying to catch him in my arms, but the injury was a lethal one, and Bhorg was a very, very old blood drinker. The Living Blood consumed him instantly. All I caught was a jumble of bones wrapped in a loose leather jerkin.
I stared in disbelief at the knobby bundle in my arms, feeling one of my oldest and dearest friends slithering like sand through my fingers. Even the bones were falling to dust, crumbling away in tiny white granules.
Gone… just like that! It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem real.
And then the vampire who had just killed my friend dived into the shack with us, swinging his bladed staff like a maniac.
19
I dodged the blow by a hair’s breadth, then flung myself at the man. He was a powerful immortal, but I was an Eternal, and nearly recovered from my injuries by then. I grabbed the Uroboran by the arms, high up by the shoulders, and flipped him over my hip, smashing him head down on the ground.
“That was my friend,” I snarled, and punched my fist through the murderer’s face.
It shattered every bone in my hand, but, oh, the satisfaction! I rose up, squashed the soldier’s chest in with my heel-- just to make certain he was dead—and then turned to console my beloved.
But Zenzele didn’t want solace. She wanted revenge!
She stalked past me, eyes slitted, head lowered between her shoulders. “Come!” she hissed. “There are many more that must be killed!” The look on her face made me gulp in apprehension.
Together, we bound onto the wall, looking for the God King.
Though the walkway was crowded with immortals, Khronos had absconded, and there was no sign where our enemy had gone. I did, however, spot Tapas about halfway down the wallwalk, battling several Uroborans. I leapt to his aid.
The immortal was a veritable giant, but Uroborans teemed over him like hungry fleas. Any moment now, one of those vicious blood drinkers was going to land a lucky blow, and the husband of my two granddaughters would join his ancestors in the ghost world.
I slammed into the back of the nearest Uroboran with my feet, crushing his spine, then lifted him up and flung his crippled body from the wall. At my side, Zenzele leapt onto the shoulders of another, wrapped her arms around his head, and wrenched it from his neck. Even as he crumpled, she lunged like a cat onto a second foe and tore his eyes from their sockets. As he flailed away in agony, she kicked a third man in the ass and sent him tumbling over the side of the wallwalk.
“Tapas!” I shouted.
The giant wheeled around on me, fists raised and bloody. He didn’t recognize me at first and lumbered in my direction, chest heaving, but then he caught sight of Zenzele and realized who I was.
“Father,” he panted, lowering his fists.
“Where is Khronos?” I asked. “He was here just a moment ago.”
He looked around. I could tell by his expression that he hadn’t seen the God King. “I do not know,” he answered. “Rayna and I just arrived. She met us in the riverlands last night, and we joined our groups together. But Khronos found us with that infernal Eye of his and he sent some troops to engage us in battle. It took us all night to fight our way past them.”
“Well, you’re here now, my friend, and I’m happy to see you.”
“I have been looking for my wives,” the giant said anxiously. “Irema and Aioa. Have you seen them, Father? Do they still live?”
“I am sorry, Tapas. I do not know. Aioa was with us, but I haven’t seen her since the battle started.”
I looked across the battlefield to the east. Our army was still fighting with the Uroborans, though the number of active participants had dwindled dramatically. The battleground was strewn with human bodies, most of them in various states of rapid decay. In just minutes, nearly half of the combatants had slaughtered one another. For
a moment, I just stood there gaping in horror. The carnage was unbelievable. And then I remembered who I was looking for and set aside my shock to concentrate on the scene below.
I leaned forward over the parapet and scanned the churning mob, using my enhanced senses to search for my granddaughters. It was not a difficult task, as the Uroborans were easy to identify, and there were twice as many men as women among the combatants.
“Neither are on the battlefield,” I said to Tapas. “I do not see Khronos either.”
Someone lobbed a spear at me and I dodged back from the wall, narrowly avoiding a terrific injury. Vampires have absurdly good aim.
Tapas turned toward the Shol with a scowl. I crossed the wallwalk to help him search the slave district.
“Even if she’s here, we’re not likely to see her,” Tapas said. He was referring to Irema, of course, whose unusual talent rendered her all but invisible unless one were looking directly at her. Even then your eyes wanted to skate past the sight of her. It was an advantageous power when subterfuge was required but damn frustrating when you needed to find her.
The number of casualties in the slave district was a bit more modest than the battlefield beyond. There were not quite so many bodies strewn throughout the streets. As without, there was still some fighting going on, though the violence was constrained to several small and widely spaced groups. The mortal denizens of the lower city had joined forces with the new-blooded rebels and were making quick work of the guards who had been posted within the walls. One large group of insurgents was battling its way up the zigzagging passage to the Arth. Although the freemen of the middle district were doing their best to hold the rebels at bay, their vengeful former slaves were slowly driving them back. It would not be long, I thought, before the Arth was overrun.
Though the Shol was a labyrinth of decrepit dwellings, filthy alleyways and festering gravepits, I did my best to scan for my granddaughters. The unpleasant truth was, either or both of them could have been dead. Despite their unique gifts, they were not particularly powerful blood drinkers, and the battle had been fierce—and was still going on. Scores more died while I searched for my granddaughters, mortal and immortal alike. They were dropping like flies, as the modern saying goes.
As I watched, the Arthian barricade crumbled and rebels poured into the middle district. They overran the city’s retreating defenders and began to pitch the hated freemen over the parapets. I watched their mortal overseers fall, screaming, to their deaths. Most of them smashed to the ground in the stone quarries below. One unfortunate fellow managed to catch ahold of one of those long festival banners as he fell. It held him for a moment—I actually found myself rooting for him a little—before it ripped in half. He plummeted with a howl, the bright red fabric trailing after him like a comet’s tail. I didn’t hear his body hit the ground, not from such a distance, but I couldn’t imagine any mortal surviving such a fall. And then I saw one of my granddaughters—I wasn’t certain which one it was—fighting in a small group towards the center of the slave district. I recognized the curly black hair and slight build, which she had inherited from her father.
Tapas spotted her the same time I did. “There she is!” he pointed. An instant later, he took to the air.
“If that is Aioa, she can help us find Khronos,” I said to Zenzele.
Zenzele nodded, and together we leapt after Tapas.
The Uroborans fled when Tapas landed among them but the giant quickly thwarted their efforts to escape. Tapas laid hands on two of them as they turned tail to run and smashed their bodies together like a pair of cymbals. He slammed them together again and again, mauling the flesh so badly I could not tell where one began and the other ended. The other rebels took care of the rest, chasing down the Uroborans and dispatching them without mercy.
Tapas threw aside the mangled blood drinkers and opened his arms to his wives. I realized then, when both women leapt into his embrace, that Irema and Aioa had been together all along.
Tapas laughed and hugged them fiercely. I was profoundly happy for them.
But we still had to find Khronos!
In truth, I was surprised that he had withdrawn from the battle. I wouldn’t have thought his pride would allow it, even when it became obvious that his army was losing. He was too stubborn. Too full of hatred. A man like Khronos would fight to the bitter end.
Unless this was another ruse.
With Khronos, there was always another trick. Traps within traps. Trickery concealed by lies and cunningly baited with hope. But we had to find him. What else could we do? We could not allow him to escape. If Khronos somehow managed to escape, he would only found another kingdom of blood and shit and human misery. He might retreat for a little while, find some dark corner to lick his wounds, but this kingdom, Uroboros, was a reflection of his rotten soul, and it would eventually, inevitably, find its expression in the world again if we allowed him to escape. He would make it so. And then we would find our fate bound once more to his desires, and to the descending death spiral from which we had fought so hard to free ourselves.
I stepped forward to talk to Aioa. It was hard to tell the twins apart. Irema was a little plumper, her eyes gentler. Aioa’s features were slightly sharper, her nose narrower, her lips thinner, or perhaps it was merely her expression. She always looked as if she were searching for some trifling thing that vaguely annoyed her, very like her great to the nth degree grandmother, Nyala.
I was going to tell her that I needed her help, that I needed the use of her special talent again. Khronos must be found. Found and destroyed. But Drago interrupted before I could make my desire known.
He had seen us from the eastern wall and leapt over to join us. Landing lightly behind us, he rattled off a report. It was good news for a change.
“The God King’s army—they’ve all surrendered!” he cried. He was so excited his tongue nearly tripped over itself. “What little of it remains, that is. We have suffered heavy losses, but the Uroboran military is all but destroyed. We have them under guard now, just outside the wall. They wish to pledge their fealty to you.”
I was sorely tempted to have them destroyed. But I held my tongue, took a moment to consider their proposal. In my heart of hearts, I knew they would be forever tainted in my mind. I had seen how the God King’s soldiers behaved, how cruel they could be, the contempt they held for their mortal slaves, their brutality. Could they ever be redeemed? Even if we took them under our wing? Showed them a better way? Could they ever be trusted?
Zenzele saw my indecision and put a hand on my arm. “I was Uroboran, my love,” she said. “As were Drago and Bhorg. As were many who fought with us here tonight. Many of them gave their lives for our cause.”
I nodded. She was right, of course. Turning back to Drago, I said, “Keep them under guard for now. We will see when we return to Asharoth if they can be rehabilitated or not.”
There were two other Uroborans in our group, blood drinkers who had changed allegiance during the battle. They glanced at one another as I spoke. I could tell that my decision was a great relief to them. I saw it strengthen their resolve. They stood up straighter, and moved closer to the rest of us. In that moment, they were no longer Uroboran. They had given up their old ways as a snake sheds its skin, or a butterfly wriggles bent-winged from its cocoon.
“There is one more thing,” Drago said, and I could see that this news was not so good.
“What is it?”
“Sunni is dead,” he said.
“Sunni? But she was an Eternal!”
He nodded with a scowl. “She fell during our initial assault, struck from the air by that volley of arrows. The God King’s soldiers tore her apart. They Divided her body and drained her of her Blood. Every last drop of it. I tried to help but I couldn’t reach her in time.”
“Drained her?” I said, shocked. “But what of the Sharing? They shouldn’t have been able to drain her completely. The Sharing should have prevented that.”
Drago shook
his head. “There were too many of them,” he said, “and they passed her body quickly around. Each drank as much of her Blood as he could, and then, when he faltered from the Sharing, another would take up a piece and drink from her some more. After a little while, the segments of her body just crumbled away. She was so small…”
The loss of the youthful Eternal was a terrible blow. I wasn’t aware that she had marched with us to Uroboros. I was fairly certain I’d sent her on some other errand. I know that Chaumas had remained behind. But there was so much going on, so many men and women rushing about. And then there was that whole production with Master Edron! Even if I’d sent her away, the little Eternal might have simply disobeyed me. Sunni was a headstrong creature, mercurial and wild, like a child raised by animals. And now she was dead, truly dead, like Bhorg and Ilio and so many others.
“We honor her life,” I said. “As we honor the lives of all the brave men and women who have died here tonight. But now is not the time for mourning. We have unfinished business. Khronos must still be dealt with. We cannot allow him to escape, not when we are so close to victory. And now, thanks to Sunni’s sacrifice, we know how an Eternal may be destroyed! Drago, gather our most powerful warriors. Go and summon all of the Eternals. I need them here by my side.”
Drago nodded and took to air.
I turned to Aioa then. “Can you lead us to him, granddaughter?” I asked. “Do you know where the God King has fled?”
She closed her eyes and tilted her head. For a moment, her face was placid, as if she were sleeping. Then she opened her eyes and smiled, and her eyes were like two dark sockets with glimmering jewels inside. Her fangs were very white and sharp, like the fangs of a cat. It was not a pleasant smile.
“Oh, yes, I can feel him,” she said. “He is not very far away.”
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The Oldest Living Vampire Unleashed Page 19