He moved like the wind, attempting to exploit my right flank and get around my shield. He swiped at me with his claws, but I moved nearly as fast, lunging backward like a cat.
“Well, at least your faster than them,” he said.
“That’s your own fault,” I replied. I snarled back at him as he leaped into the air, hanging above me on the ceiling. A moment later, he dove down on top of me, slashing at my shield. The force from his strikes pushed my entire body backwards, knocking the shield aside. He cut my face badly. Black blood flung into the air.
Cruel laughter rang out as a wicked smile curled his lips. Then, suddenly, he disappeared.
I looked around the room frantically for him.
As I told you, I can show you powers beyond what you’ve known, but you didn’t trust me, clinging on to that petty bond to your father, he spoke telepathically. It felt as if his voice was coming at me from everywhere at once, bouncing off the walls of the cave, disorienting me as I tried to locate him.
I felt my shins smoldering in the sun as the rays pierced through the walls. “Ahhhhhhh!” hissed out an anguished cry from the shadows. I looked down at my shield; the reflection of the sun bounced off it, shining into the dark room.
I angled the shield up, scanning the ceiling, then the side walls, using the deadly rays like an arrow of fire from Apollo. “Clever,” said a twisted voice spoken aloud.
“What, this?!”
“Aahhhhhhhhh!” Morack yelled as the reflection met him, exposing his invisible form. Fire ignited around his body as he dove into a mound of snow.
He disappeared again in the shadows. I hunted for him with the reflection. I could hear him panting and hissing in pain. Then, I heard a sound behind me, but I was too slow to react. I yelled as he stabbed me in the back with his claws.
I bashed him with my shield, knocking him back. Blood flowed down my legs. He lunged back in, cutting my shoulders, then slicing my right arm off completely. “Ughhhh-hhhhhhh!” I yelled as my arm and sword fell to the ground.
It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. I was staring at my own arm lying on the ground, black blood pooling from the nasty opening where it should’ve been joined to my shoulder.
“Last chance, Acula.” Morack growled, his voice snapping me back to reality. I readied my shield, scanning the room. Even with my enhanced strength, it felt awkward without the counterbalance of my father’s sword in hand.
He appeared in front of me, slowly walking towards me as my back pressed up against the wall. He walked around the sun’s rays within a few paces from me.
“Now, put down that shield.”
“Come and take it,” I said. Morack’s face morphed with an anger I had never witnessed.
He sprung at me, fangs out, claws ready to strike. He latched on to my back, biting and clawing my neck and shoulders. I smashed the ice wall with my shield repeatedly. Sunlight beamed through, exposing the horizon. I lunged forward with all my might, diving out over the cliff into the open sun and taking him with me. We tumbled down the hill for what seemed like forever, burning, smashing into trees and rocks until we came to a stop in an open field of grass, far from the snowcapped mountains.
I could hear Morack moaning in agony. I was on my backside, as was he. We were about twenty paces apart. Our eyes met as flames ignited our bodies. I had held on. Father’s shield was in my left hand. I put it over my body, retreating like a turtle into its shell, the bronze shield protecting me from the sun’s deadly gaze. Drawn by a tingling sensation on my side, I cast my gaze at my shoulder. Astoundingly, new flesh had begun to grow there, and it was expanding even as I watched. My meal from before the battle had more than sated my hunger, and the arm Morack severed just minutes ago was already starting to grow back. I felt my stomach twinge with renewed hunger as the pale flesh of my new arm sewed itself into existence.
Meanwhile, Morack cried out in fury and pain as flames engulfed his form. I peeked from under the rim of the shield to observe him. He scrambled under a tree like a wet cat out of the water. I stood up carefully, keeping the shield angled toward the sun, using my advantage to close the distance to him.
As I reached the tree’s great shadow, I noticed it was an oak, unlike all the others around it. It stood strong and proud among all the pines.
I stood over Morack’s burnt body as he lay face down. His head was completely black; his lips and eyelids had been burned completely off. Smoke poured off him, making him look like a beaten blade newly quenched in water. His purple rope had seared into his skin. He was breathing heavily as he turned over to look at me. He stared at me for a few moments in disbelief. A light breeze hit our skin as the morning birds began to sing.
“Hhhh…hhhhh,” Morack wheezed, trying to laugh, but it came out as little more than a pathetic breath of air. “You were right, I let…the bond grow too strong. I should…I should have just finished you both at the slave camps,” he said, panting. “I got greedy.”
“You remember all the power you promised me?” I asked.
“I-I can still show you more, yes,” he replied.
“What my father did up there…that was power…he risked his life just to show me he loved me…”
“He’s dead! He’s nothing! I wiped out a platoon of Spartans trained in war without a scratch on me. That is—”
“Not a scratch? Looks a bit different from here,” I replied, raising my eyebrows.
“Well I didn’t have a shield to protect me,” he said.
“You know who else didn’t have protection when they needed it?” I asked.
“Who, Acula?”
“Your son, your mother, your wife, your aunts and uncles, and all the countless others you’ve bled dry in your anger and lust…other than this dark power you were given, you’re no different now than you were as a man. You’re a corrupted, weak blade.”
Morack paused for several seconds. His long fingers clawed into the soil. Blood poured from his eyes. “Even now, my family, t-their screams haunt me…I couldn’t bury enough souls to drown out my son’s calls for help…I couldn’t,” he said, coughing. Morack lay before me a broken man, almost pitiful in his crumpled form.
“There aren’t enough souls in all of Greece,” I replied.
“But…I-I still have much to offer…I-I can you show you so much more—”
“All that is over.”
“…What about the fire your father spoke of, the fire to change, to become more?” he asked.
“You’ve had hundreds of years to find your fire,” I replied. “In all that time, you indulged only in darkness,” His eyes peered up at me, white orbs surrounded by cracked, burnt flesh. “But even now…I think I’m capable of mercy.”
Morack cracked a smile and said, “Yes…mercy…”
I snatched him up by his wrist as his eyes widened. “Mercy for all those who should ever cross your path.”
“What?” he said. I began dragging him towards the light. “No, no, wait—what are you—let me go! Aaa-aaaah!” He screamed as the sun touched him. I put the shield over me. I pulled him into the middle of a field as he shrieked, attempting to anchor his claws into the soil, even digging for the darkness below.
“I can…bring…Ahhh…your father back. A-Acula, I swear it, it’s not too late…I-I can save your father!” he begged. I shook my head at Morack slowly, staring at him as I continued dragging him. Morack’s eyes popped out of his head as cones of flames spewed through the sockets.
I stopped, kneeling down next to him as screamed out, reaching towards me. Soon, even his desperate pleas died out.
His skin turned white, burning into his bones. Then his skeleton dissolved in front of me. His body turned into a pile of ash as white smoke billowed into the blue sky. Then, what sounded like a hundred souls left him—voices from his victims, I imagined, exhaling, unshackling their chains unto the heavens. Men, women…children.
Morack was no more. His ashes would mingle with the soil, and maybe one day, a year or a
century or a millennium from now, he would become clay molded into man once more, forged with a new fire. Perhaps then he could redeem himself. But the monster lay smote at the bottommost valley far from his mountain fortress, and for that I felt no remorse.
I stumbled back under the oak tree, leaning against it. I slowly slid down it, staring at the pile of powder before me. I glanced up the mountain where my father lay.
I climbed back up the mountain, using a shady path and always keeping in the mountain’s shadow on the far side from the sun. I waited until night, and then carried Father, Icar, and each Spartan to the highest point I could find. I carried them one by one, thanking them for their sacrifice.
I buried Father last, not because I planned it, but because it was the most difficult. I laid him inside the hole I dug. I placed my hand over his before I covered it with dirt as the night wind howled. Tears streamed down my face, dripping onto his body.
“F-father…by the gods, if you can hear me…I pray you are…with Mother now. I wish that for you…One day, maybe the gods will allow m-me to be…with you and her…Thank you for your devotion, your courage, and your love, Preturias of Sparta.”
I placed his shield atop him, crossing his hands around it; his blood still covered the griffin he had painted on it. I began to cover his body with dirt. I spread it across his bronze shield, filling in the nicks and abrasions in it. As it began to cover his face, I stopped, looking at him.
I thought about his journey. I thought about his words, his example of building a sword and a man. I thought about how some men would fight their whole lives to build themselves to become strong, to become bronze. But I realized that once a man truly loves someone unconditionally, he’s not like the sword anymore…
A man becomes the shield.
Epilogue
Many years later…
“Sir?”
“Yes, come in.”
A man opened the door in front of me. Before I entered, I noticed the room’s exotic fabrics and furniture. A giant lion’s head was mounted on the wall to my left.
“Leave us,” said an imperious man with thick, wavy blond hair. The servant left the two of us alone in the room. “Have a seat,” he said, turning towards me. He was a young man with an intense expression on his face. He looked me over as he began pacing back and forth in deep thought.
I chose to remain standing.
“So you’re the famed hunter of monsters, they say?” He studied me more, and I didn’t mind his stare; I was more than accustomed to more hostile appraisals than his. He raised his eyebrows and stood with his arms crossed, his hand tucked underneath his chin.
“Some say,” I replied.
“That’s quite unusual armor, or is that a cloak? Where did you get that?” he asked.
“Custom. I made this cuirass myself; it’s a mesh of bronze and fur. Lightweight, but offers some protection against blades…and claws,” I said.
“Yes. Claws. I’ve lost nearly forty men to this…creature. Any chance these rumors are simply fiction? You know how men are…they tend to exaggerate,” he said in a confidential tone. “Maybe my men were simply killed by assassins?” he added, looking into my eyes for an answer I couldn’t give him.
I shook my head from side to side.
“Doesn’t hurt to ask, I suppose…You know, you look awfully…young for such a reputation. How old are you, twenty-four?” he asked, dropping his arms to the side.
“A bit older than that,” I said. “It’s the sun, I avoid it all costs.”
“Bad for the skin, is it?” He smiled.
“You have no idea.”
“According to reports, this monster is a female, and she poses as a prostitute, leeching off my men. What do you know of her?”
“We crossed paths, but we were kids back then…she was a witch’s daughter.”
“Hmm. So she’s a witch, then,” he said, nodding.
“No. Worse. Far worse.”
“I get the feeling you’re withholding information from me.”
“You’re a busy man; I’ll only bother you with what matters,” I replied. He nodded his head slowly.
“They say she’s unbelievably beautiful…they say no man that has lain eyes on her can resist…”
“I’m here for the job, beauty, beast, or both,” I replied.
“Fair enough. They say you won’t except traditional payment. What do you want in return for your services?” he asked.
“It’s a bit of an annoyance, but I want your men to leave me alone. I’m stopped at every checkpoint for my appearance. I’m Greek, yet I’m treated as a foreigner in my own lands. Specialized trades such as mine often appear peculiar. Anything you can do in return?” I asked.
“I’m Alexander the Great, conqueror of nations? If I cannot control my own men, how can I hope to control others?” he said, smirking.
“Good,” I said, turning my back on him.
“Oh, and Acula? We leave at sunrise,” he said casually.
“We?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m already heading towards your objective. You will join me. You could use the sun, you’re very pale,” he said.
“I work alone, Alexander, it’s the only way,” I said. His eyebrows pinched forward as he walked closer.
“Do you forget who you are speaking to? They say you are Spartan; maybe I’ll just invade your homeland for that remark,” he said.
“Do what you like, conqueror,” I replied. No matter what territories he held, I would not be cowed by any mortal man. The witch’s daughter was another matter, though, and I was anxious to be on my way.
He stepped closer, to within a few inches of my face. He looked on at me with a curious stare. He didn’t say a word for several seconds. “You don’t fear me, do you?” He asked.
“I fear nothing anymore,” I replied. He immediately turned his back to me.
“I can see that…very well, Acula of Sparta. If you’re successful with this assignment, I have might have another mission for you.”
“We’ll see,” I said.
“For now, take this; it will aid you in your journey,” he said. He handed me a short sword off the table. “Pure bronze,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“Is it?” I asked.
“Of course, my finest made it. Most use iron these days, but there’s something classic about the feel of the bronze,” he said. I pulled out my father’s sword, much to Alexander’s surprise. “Now that’s an old sword,” Alexander noted, the barest hint of admiration in his voice. “The style is Spartan, of course.”
“Old, but true. Do you mind if I test this old sword against it?” I asked. “Just out of curiosity.”
“…why, no, but I hate to see you destroy that relic,” he said.
I quickly slammed the new sword against my father’s, and the new sword broke in half like chalk on granite. The broken portion flew across the room as Alexander’s eyes followed it.
“That…that…w-who made it?” he asked.
“My father.”
“I shall enlist him as my craftsman at once,” he said.
I held the sword up in the air, twirling the blade. “Unfortunately, he died long ago, and this is all that remains of him now,” I said.
Alexander shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he said, tapping my armor at the chest. “Your father might be gone, but like his sword, his work lives on, as he has crafted a man of true bronze.”
Stay tuned for the continuing adventures of Acula, the monstrous monster hunter!
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[DA1]What is this from? After Zella was killed?
Acula Page 11