Saints Of Satan Chapter Fourteen

The Northerners took an immediate dislike to everyone and everything about the camp. In fact it was only their pledge to me that kept them there, had they not have taken it then there was no doubt they would have left. Unfortunately, they did not attempt to hide it either.
I could feel the tension hanging in the air like some unwanted illness, and it was only a matter of time before a fight broke out between the two groups. After briefly trying to accustom the Northerners to our clan, I decided it was just best to keep them separate and hope that when it came to fighting side by side in battle in the days to come, they would grow closer.
I spent some time resting and recovering, however sleep came with difficulty, and I found myself lying awake, listening to any daily sound outside, desperately trying to push aside thoughts of Maria and the future ahead.
During the night I volunteered to stand guard, along with some of my troops from the North, who refused otherwise. The vampires who we had first met where extremely grateful of this, and had time to rest properly during the night and at points in the day, which was essential for the battle that was surely to come.
I ordered my vampires to help out as best they could, however to ensure keeping their being there quiet, we could not send them outside the village borders, so jobs were limited. They constructed quite efficiently barricades between buildings around the southern side of the village, with the river covering the east and leaving only the north and west to cover. Makar also told me that his troops were creating a ‘surprise’, for Francis’ troops, but refused to tell me what it was. He would simply crack a slim smile and say “It will show this southern lot just how we fight our wars to the North!”
Lord James and I spent most of the hours leading up to night in the church, devising plans of how best to take on the opposition, however without an accurate idea of their numbers it proved difficult to do so. Luckily, the madness of preparation and helping out about the camp meant that I had little time to stop and acknowledge the constant painful memories of the past burning just out of reach in my mind.

Four days since our arrival, I lay atop a rooftop of one of the buildings to the North, fifteen other vampires lying similar so covering the North and West of the village. It had been a long night, not even the odd new bourn or animal for that matter coming into sight in the dark expanse before us. There was something wrong, and we each knew it. I turned to the nearest vampire beside me, clad in thick leather briefs and bearing a bristling fur coat of some sort of winter creature, perhaps a snow leopard.
He looked back, catching my eye. His eyes burned with a fiery madness, in anticipation of the fight. I had seen it many of the vampire’s eyes, and although they did not see it as a just fight, it seemed they would enjoy it all the same.
I sighed heavily, watching as the brilliant full moon crept across the clear sky, dotted with numerous stars that bore their ominous light down on the land about.
“It’s tonight,” I breathed, looking about and fingering my blade. I motioned for the vampire alongside me to go down and fetch Makar, whilst signalling all but two of the vampires to leave their posts and head to the village centre.
As I ran through the main street that cut through the settlement, I whistled sharply three times, and after but moments doorways filled with the vampires that had occupied them. I looked to each, and silently, and they nodded back, heading back inside to prepare themselves.
Makar appeared next to me, having sprinted from straight from the church. He wore an intricately designed silver breast plate, along with leather briefs and bearing a large battle axe across his back. I saw in his eyes the same fiery lust for battle as in every one of his men, and it was at that point that I realised I was grateful that these fierce lot were on my side, for they would undoubtedly be fearful opponents.
Ten minutes later and the whole of our force was gathered in the centre of the village, about a small well. Lord James hurried over to me, bearing a short rapier and clad in a golden breastplate with an iron skirt covering his thighs. He looked to me, sheer determination in his eyes, the look of a hunted creature who would do anything to take back his pride.
He leapt with ease to the top of the well, standing tall above the legion about him. The vampires fell silent about him, even the Northerners looked to him. After a long moment, he began.
“We have been disgraced! We have had our land and pride torn from us with blade and fire and deception! Warriors of new and old, it is time for us,” he paused, and seemed to look each of us in the eye in turn, before continuing, “It is time for us, to reclaim our land!” a cheer from our clan went up, and although the Northerners stood quiet, the powerful cry rang through the air, “It is time, for us to reclaim our pride!” Another cheer rang out, stronger still.
“Now, it won’t be easy, but through blade, anger and blood, we will deal a blow to enemy of which they will never forget! Let us take back what they took from us, let us fight for our clan, in memory of those lost. Let us go, and fight!”
The crowd roared, including Makar and his troop, inspired by their lust for blood. I was sure the enemy would hear this, and for a moment worried if it would let on our numbers, however I shrugged the thought aside, the thrill from the short but powerful speech coursing through me.
“For the clan!” I roared, and headed along with the clans warriors to the villages northern side. As I went, I nodded to Makar, and he took his vampires off to the Eastern side of the village.
“Take care, Haruk,” He growled, and then hurried to his warriors.
This significantly reduced our numbers, and soon the thrill of the speech began to wear off, as we looked about and realised there was but a mere seventeen of us now. As we reached the last few houses, I signalled the two vampires atop the rooftops to relieve themselves.
They had nothing to report, but I could tell this would be the night, the air was too still, and the full moon sent shivers down my spine.
Lord James sent three of his own to replace them, and then told the others to hide behind the houses, and stay alert.
An idle cheer went up again, and I smiled, the vampires looking hardened in their battle gear, ready for anything.
Except for what happened next.
An inhuman roar cut through the air, reaching us and reverberating through our bodies. The vampires looked to each other, the fear clear in their eyes. The roar came to an abrupt halt, and soon after a call came from atop the rooftops.
“My lord, its, you need to see sir,” the voice said, nerve clearly embedded within it.
I looked at Lord James, and we each climbed atop a rooftop. Staring out, it was not hard to find what we were looking for. A force of vampires had gathered just before the distant tree line before a large hill, with more pouring in from the depths of the woodland then we could have ever expected.
“May the spirits protect us!” gasped Lord James, quickly crawling from the rooftop and dropping quietly to the ground.
“Prepare yourselves! And for the sake of our forefathers, fight like you’ve never fought before!” he cried, drawing his blade and standing in the middle of the main road leading into the village. He raised his blade high and waited as the vampires in hiding filed in behind him, weapons drawn and looks of determination mixed with fear on their faces.
The enemy horde came to a sudden, unexpected standstill two hundred odd feet away. I frowned, but then there moves became apparent.
"Don't give into the fear!” I shouted, as the enemy began stamping their feet in unison, the sound reverberating through the countryside and coursing through us.
“Damn them,” growled Lord James, taking a few steps forwards, “Come and take us on then!” he cried taking a stone in his hand and hurling it. The rock easily made the distance, and hit a vampire in the arm, who cried out in pain and darted forwards with excruciating speed.
Lord James took on a fighting stance, and as the vampire dived through the air cut through him with his blade, his reflexes dangerously acute from years of training.
“New bourn,” I spat, taking the corpse and hurling it to one side. The vampires chuckled quietly, clearly still on edge but happy that one of the enemy had died so easily.
The opposing force roared in anger, and five more new bourns raged forth in uncontrollable anger. Drawing my blade, I cut down two of them and left the other three to the others.
Hadro laid into one with two knives flying through the air in a whir of blood and metal, whilst two other saw an end to other.
“See!” I exclaimed, “These enemy are pathetic!” The result was a few more breaking off and seeing a similar bloody end to the others.
“Good,” Lord James smiled, “They are unstable, at least we won’t be facing a disciplined force,”
“Aye,” I agreed, wiping the crimson liquid from my blade on the grimy shirt of a corpse.
We began to jeer the enemy, hoping to weaken their forces before they struck by picking off odd members as we were, however the senior members of the opposition came to, and began beating back their own, the threat of execution deterring them from rising to our bait.
I turned, cursing, spotting one of the vampires stooping slightly, a cut running the length of his thigh. My heart lurched. It seemed as though the enemy were more dangerous than I had thought. A full scale attack of all of them would be overwhelming.
“Remember the plan,” I said to them, and they each nodded, grimacing in anticipation. The stamping continued, resounding throughout the troops, the ominous beat coursing through me.
After five long, painful minutes, it became apparent Francis was going to enjoy it as best he could, and I turned to the warriors about me, each bearing the same grim expression.
“We are vampires!” I hissed, looking to each one, “We are the lords of the night, kings of darkness and the bringers of fear! Let not a simple horde of new bourns that whimper in the night of day frighten us, who have seen centuries fall by like seconds on a clock!” I turned to the opposing horde, and yelled as loud as I could, “Come on you pathetic vermin! Why simply stand there? Are you too afraid to take on but fifteen of us?
The new bourns howled in rage, tearing into the ground with crude weaponry and baring their fangs. I smiled, it was not long before they cracked and broke lines.
“I think you right,” Gabrielle called, “My late human grandmother could take these excuses of vampires in a fight!”
That was it, the new bourns were burning with rage, their emotions and adrenaline in disarray from the change they were experiencing. The stampede of charging new bourns was a sight for the short while it lasted, they shoved each other aside with their eagerness to shed blood, a few were even lost in the fray, trampled to the ground by their brethren.
I held my blade ready, standing in line with the fellow vampires. Luckily, the senior vampires of the opposition were late to react, and charged down after them, a good fifty metres behind.
“For the Lords!” a cry went up, and an instant later they were upon us. I whirred my blade through the air, slicing anything in front of me. The sheer numbers forced us immediately back a few paces, and we each stepped back to avoid being submerged amidst the crowd of bodies.
It was not long before I lost sight of Lord James, who was laughing insanely somewhere off to my right, screaming something about ‘teaching the babies a lesson’.
Gabrielle came alongside me at one point, hacking into the vampires with two short axes, but he too was lost in the fray but moments later.
I winced, a deep gash having appeared on my arm. Looking up, I pounced forth with speed I barely knew I could muster, taking my opponent down and sharply bringing my knife up into his chin. The pain came a moment later, and I winced, anger boiling inside of me.
In the heat of the moment, as we were pushed back towards the centre of the village, I caught sight of Madro, fighting off two new bourns who were savagely attacking him. The next second however, another vampire expertly flipped down off a rooftop, lopping off his head mid-air and smiling as the other two bathed in his blood.
I choked back my disgust, and felt the anger boiling inside my gut. The scene reminded me of Maria’s inglorious death, how she had been hit with her back turned, and in that moment the anger was let loose.
I stopped, and instead of moving back began to lay into the crowd before me, leaving a trail of corpses in my wake, screaming all the while. It was only a matter of time before I met the similar end to poor Madro, and I knew this, but the rage within me had taken hold, an anger we had trained to keep deep within us.
As the world began to become a whirlwind of pain, a haze of crimson blood and screaming, I ignored all else other than myself and my weapon, which tore through the air like a missile onto its target. Old and young, they all fell before my blade, however as each died, another replaced it, the force seemed to be infinite, and the pain was ever growing as I took on more and more wounds and became weaker and weaker.
“Maria!” I yelled, my blade cutting through flesh and bone like a knife through butter.

Lord James no longer laughed, the desperation of the battle taking hold within him. The fight was as good as over, the Northerners had failed to show when needed, and all that was left to go about was the slow and painful deaths of him and all those still loyal. Cursing with rage, he tore down his opponent, and then went on to the next.
Before he knew what was happening, however, there was a scream of pure insanity somewhere close to his left, and in an instant he was taken to the cold ground, specs of dirt and dust filling his mouth and eyes, causing them to tear.
Instinct took hold, and he exploded to his feet, narrowly missing a serrated blade that plunged into the dirt where his face had been a moment earlier.
Lord James took the split second where the enemy had his blade wedged between layers of clammy mud to wipe his eyes on blood soaked hands. The world about him flooded back into sight, and the Lord had but a moment to glimpse the beast of an opponent.
“Zander!” Lord James spat, holding his blade out straight, aimed at his heart. The coiled muscles rippling down his arms and the numerous scars on his face were unmatched. Zander had been the best warrior the clan had seen in a century, and before succumbing to Francis’s evil ways, he had been the Lord’s sparring partner and trainer.
“How about a lesson in bloodshed?” Zander growled, twirling his blade expertly through the air, showering Lord James in dirt and slicing his blade across his left shoulder.
“Ah!” cried James, jumping back to avoid the follow up blow that would have ended him then and there. Grimacing, the two exchanged powerful blows, James’ arm reverberating from each block. It seemed Zander had become a much less respectable fighter, having turned to cheap tricks to see a quick end to his opponent.
James parried as much as he could, but Zander was more than a handful for him, and with the odd jabs from surrounding enemies he had no chance.
After another spiteful blow, a punch to his kidneys as he had spun, Lord James decided to fight fire with fire. After a moment, he feigned an injury from behind, and as Zander slowly came forth to deliver the finishing blow, James drove the hilt of his blade as hard as he could into his gut, winding Zander and allowing him to recover.
However, it appeared the enemy had been simply toying with him, and two stout arms held him tight from behind, crushing his lungs and making him incapable of breathing.
Zander immediately came back with a heavy punch, snapping numerous ribs and racking pain throughout his body.
The end. A rein of power for millennia, brought to a sudden stop by a traitorous brute and a muddy blade.
Holding his head high, and ignoring the intense pain, Lord James looked his maker in the eye and bared his fangs. Zander smiled grimly, and raised his sword high above him, the full moon’s pale hue glinting off its very tip.
“Eh?” Zander said, a strange look on his face. Lord James frowned, and then looked down to Zanders chest. The corner of a weapon protruded from the left of his chest, the blow having cut his heart in two. With a look of shock spread wide across his face, Zander fell to his knees, a small trickle of blood staining his chin a red hue and dripping down to the floor.
Lord James rescuer stood tall above the corpse, taking his mighty axe from flesh and ploughing it into another attacker.
“For the Haruk!” He roared, his voice drawing the attention of all those about him. In an flash of blade and a wave blood, the Northerners laid into the enemy, tearing them apart with savage yet brutal accuracy. The two holding Lord James soon fell to vicious ends, and the Lord had just enough time to recover his rapier before the enemy created a counter wave.
The village filled with the crush of vampires brawling, the fight no longer tactical in any sorts, but merely a desperate battle for survival.

I winced, recovering from a heavy blow to the head. The world was a blur of noise and smeared colours around me, pain fusing through me and causing me to cry out.
The raging fight of inhuman proportion seemed a long distance away, the battle cries and screams of pain and death but a dim moan playing at the corner of my mind. For a moment the world swam in and out of focus, but the dizziness refused to subside, the blow to the head I had succumbed leaving me entirely disoriented and unable to move.
Somewhere in the distance, a small spark of light floated across my vision, flickering in and out of being. Soon more followed, and for a split second the sky above was filled with these flickering lights, but then one by one they fell, and the world exploded in flames.