The Wielder of Death Magic

“Silence,” resounded the heavy voice, “-how dare you,” feet to the cold floor, “-I will not take my people’s life for mere sustenance. This blunder is my fault, the people shouldn’t be blamed. I’ll fight with or without your blood, understand?” Words of courage, the howl of a dying beast. An oval face drooped to a frown, the wrinkles beside the nose were at odds with the cheeks. The tension sprawled to knot the glabella into an expression of determination.

Way to the east; Lady Elvira contacted Igna. “Hello,” he answered.

“I’ll get right to it, we’re at the risk of losing our stronghold.”

“Ect’s fallen and they’ve moved to pincer Hect?”

“Yes, éclairs kept you informed.”

“I suppose,” glancing at the progress, “-I guess I can help. What are the orders?”

.....

“Repel the attack and reclaim Ect. We’ve already levied an army to fortify the garrison. They should be there tomorrow. Have the castles be cleared then, can I count on you?”

“What’s the reward,” asked he, “-I’ll do the job regardless.”

“I see, you want an incentive. How about becoming a lord?” Her decision garnered initial scrutiny. The task ahead was tremendous. With that in mind, the clan leaders nodded in agreement.

“A lord,” he paused, “-let’s go over the details after the battle.”

A gale softened the meadowy scape ahead. “Julius,” voiced he, “-we may need to head for Hect.”

“We can’t make it even if we start now.”

“Oh yes we can,” he faced the front with a resolved expression. Things were about to change, there were but a few tells to decipher Igna. Between the soft gentle smiles to lower guard and the emotionless expression, the latter was a sign of a plan. ‘Here I thought I’d never use this spell.’ *Ancient Magic: Gate,* a vortex spiraled on the path.

“Come on, Julius, let’s head out.”

A blink later, the jeep appeared behind a thick line of trees. Hect stood before them, a castle of immense proportion. Between the castle and them, laid the Empire’s invading army. A fatigued figure hailed atop the rear exit, tanks were lined and ready to strike. A single shot and the walls would be decimated. Down to the bloodied stone path, bodies of previous fighters were impaled and put on display. Few of them breathed, the fortunate died – a nauseating sight. Sebath’s blood-arts were but the ability to cleanly cleave objects in half. As many Count-ranked noble vampires, the fighting ability was strong. ‘-I’ll fight as long as I can breathe. They were so sincere in offering their blood, I wish I could have taken their offer, the drawback to my arts is drinking the blood of a virgin. The worst limiter possible. For a half-blooded nightwalker, I’ve made it far enough.’

“Who are you?” wondered a boy with a mushroom-shaped hairstyle. Freckles were heavy down the nose and chin. Multiple daggers rested at the hip and across the chest.

“Count Sebath of Hect. I’m the lord of this castle-town.”

“I see,” returned the heavier-looking man, “-we’re the inquisitor of his majesty. Our noble duty is to clear the land from inhumane and slay the devil’s offspring. You, nightwalker, are the servant of the devils.”

“Then so be it,” said he proudly, “-I’ve defended this castle from your kind since the dawn of the invasion. I’d rather die than to fall!”

“Elan, have at it,” ordered a stern-looking man in uniform.

“As you wish,” said the boy, “-consider the job done, Major Eiol.”

*BANG,* “-arggg,” the distant sound of breaking, sprinting troops. The front castle gates were broken. ‘Damn it,’ stuck in combat. One moment at the front, the second at the back. Multiple enchanted daggers dug into legs and arms. Blood poured, no regeneration, the ability of a vampire slayer isn’t in raw strength. Tis the gift to injure the nightwalkers. ‘This is bad,’ he coughed, “-the inquisition is too strong for my level.”

Flaming red hair ambled onto the battlefield, an inferno lit on her ankle and wrist. “Who are you?” returned the muscled man, “-a witch?” he glared.

“Shut it, concrete face,” *snap,* a mist-like entity dashed to punch, a second later, the castle walls cracked by the inquisitor’s body.

“Who are you?” wondered the major pushing up his glasses.

“Me?” turned to stare, “-I’m the herald of death. I serve the one true ruler of this pitiful dimension.”

“I beg to differ,” a smirk had him fade into a crowd of soldiers. “-Heed my call, loyal servants of our god. Look down upon thy scopes and take aim. The heretics must be killed else the land will be sullied by their filthy blood.”

“Dear oh dear,” whispered another, “-the words mean so much,” a fragile silhouette blocked the retreat, “-don’t run away so fast, dear major,” tickling whispers sent the mind into a frenzy, “-else, you might lose out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“UNHAND ME!” he cried.

“Too bad,” an arm went through the back and out the front, “-I’d rather claim thy soul instead,” the beating heart crushed. “Disgusting, I’ve soiled my outfit.”

“Your fault,” said Intherna, “-could have used magic and avoided the mess. Adete’s going to be angry. She hates cleaning the blood of cloths.”

“Don’t take the high moral ground,” refuted Gophy, “-I’ll scrub the damned shirt myself.”

“Good luck,” winked she, “-those frills aren’t going to be easy.”

‘Who a-are they?’ face to the hardened ground, ‘-why’s the army not fighting. What’s happening here?’

“Impressive,” resounded a distant voice, “-you have angered the will that burns deep in my heart,” rocks crumbled, the muscled man stood without trouble, “-tis a mighty blow!”

“Ond, are you ok?” asked the boy.

“Yes, our gods blessed us with immense power, none shall dare land a hit.”

“I understand,” said Elan, “-we ought to take it seriously.”

“Let’s,” a white spiral burst on towards the skies. Angelic wings sprouted, “-heathens who dared sully the good name of our Lord shall pay with their lives.”

The petty squabble about laundry halted, “-Gophy, look, their magical power’s increased.”

“I know,” nodded she, “-how very comical.”

“YOU DARE MOCK US?” a scream and they charged to hand-to-hand combat. Each strike sent shockwaves, the ground rattled, the speed went from normal to inhuman, trees flung, tanks lifted with a single hand, the monstrous battle bared no logic.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, the sieging army rushed to kill on sight. “-GIVE UP WEAPONS!” said a nun, “-our lord is graceful to bestow hope onto the believers,” pink-hair cloaked, a golden staff bearing a jeweled orb, “-we need not fight.” Fighters were forced into a circle. Habitants of the town were dragged into the yard. Men, women, and children were separated. The pink-haired priestess stood atop the walls with hands stretched out to the gods. “-fighting isn’t necessary,” said she. A convenient lie as the hostages were held at gun point.

“GO TO HELL!” screamed a bystander, “-YOU PEOPLE KILLED MY FAMILY IN THE NAME OF GOD. TIS NOT JUSTICE!” the people revolted. “GO TO HELL, GO TO HELL, GO TO HELL!”

‘hell... hell.... Hell?’ faint murmurs wrapped about the entrance in a malicious tone, “-HOW DARE YOU!” the soft-hearted visage drowned in a psychotic hue, “-SLAUGHTER THEM,” her nails dug deep into her reddened cheeks.

“My lady, they’ve surrendered, there’s no need to kill them,” said a presiding officer.

“You dare defy the will of a priestess?” she latched onto his stead.

“No, I apologize, priestess, I was a fool.” The arm rose to give the order. Once a place for joy and happiness, the muddied yard was often a playground for the children. Traders often brought toys of which the Count generously gifted to the newer generation. In the people’s minds, Hect was the only place to live and survive. A friendly lord and a cooperating community. All changed, the blueish sky socked in the grey sadness of the fallen. Friends killed, parents lost, the guard’s bravado leaked away.

*Woosh,* “-where there is a will, there is a way.” Two figures hovered onto the walls.

“What your names?” glared the priestess.

“A lowly servant doesn’t have the honor of knowing our names,” returned Miira, “-Would you please do the honors?”

“As you wish,” said Julius aiming the rifle.

“MEN!” screamed the officer, “-TAKE AIM AT THE INTRUDERS!”

“How very thoughtful,” snickered Miira,”-too bad,” her shadow passed by, “-they can’t move.” *bang, bang, bang.* The battle ended with the inquisitors being dragged outside.

“Count Sebath, my name’s Igna Haggard, I’ve come on order of Lady Elvira.”

“I see,” the head rose, “-forgive me, my strength’s lost.”

“Don’t worry,” a kick sent the nun crashing onto the floor, “-there, she’s a virgin. Go on and drink.”

“DON’T YOU DARE, I WILL NOT BE DEFILED BY SOME LOWLY NIGHTWALKER!”

“Defiled?” glared Igna, “-lady,” he grabbed her throat, “-you don’t understand the mess you’ve caused.” He ripped her clothes, leaving only the undergarments, “-the people you’ve killed, they linger. Count Sebath, would you kindly wait a few minutes. There’s some business we need to settle.”

“UNHAND ME!” she cried.

“What are you up to?” wondered Intherna.

“Crest,” said he, “-look for her crest. She has the blessing of the king. Once that’s taken away, she’ll be nothing more than a peasant.”

“DON’T,” her lips tightened, “DON’T LAY YOUR HANDS ON ME!”

“Gophy,” he stood, “-please, take care of her wretched personality.”

“Ouh,” her cheeks flushed, “-a chance to play. Don’t mind if I do.”

“G-get a-away,” her hands trembled to pull the weight, “-d-don’t t-touch m-me.”

“Stop moving,” sighed Igna. A pole pinned her to the ground, the screams echoed inside the town. *Blood-Arts: Bloody Mary.* “-Here’s a gift,” said he, “-eat the apple, we’ll speak in a few moments. Gophy shook in anticipation, ‘-can I?’ said her face. “Take them to the dungeon,” ordered Igna, “-Miira, Intherna, the other two are ripe for the picking. Do as is pleased, get information first, afterward, kill ’em or set ’em free, doesn’t matter. As for you, Gophy, Count Sebath doesn’t seem intent on drinking her blood. Ravish her as you’d like.” Long were the days gone where the goddesses cared about humanity. Torturing the heart of the living, testing their will, claiming their souls. They had the authority. In a way, torturing the inquisitors was justice to the fallen. Albeit sadistic and cruel, tis the world. The plea for mercy echoed emptily, the dungeon came to life.

“Igna, who were they?” asked Julius. The starry-night befell a melancholic landscape.

“My friends,” replied he, “-Goddess Gophy, Intherna, and Miira. We’ve only recently reunited. Look down there, the people are celebrating the deaths of their comrades. It’s admirable, to send off the fallen with a smile. The battle isn’t over, Ect stands over yonder.”

“With them on our side, there’s no way we’ll fail.”

“I agree,” he smiled, “-they’re my trusty guardians.”

*Clop, clop, clop,* “-Igna Haggard.”

“Count Sebath, how are the injuries?”

“Much better,” said he peering over the edge, “-the townsfolk are grateful.”

“It would have ended very badly,” added Julius, “-why didn’t you take the blood of a virgin before heading to battle?”

“I don’t want to force my people into my battles. It’s selfish and inconsiderate. Hect is a peaceful place, I wish it to remain so. Might I ask something?”

“Go ahead.”

“What happened to the bodies?”

.....

“Turned into ghouls,” replied he nonchalantly.