Sonja spun Hecate about as yet another of the guards' horses went down with a sickening thud.
The rider—Blasko by name—tumbled to the ground as well, landing in a heap of flailing limbs and dented metal. His drawn sword flew from his fingers. Swearing profanely, he groped urgently for his weapon. Bloody claws, rising up from the earth, tore at the downed horse's leg. Sonja stared at the carnage in shock, finally grasping what was happening all around her. By the sacred blood of Corvinus, the werewolves are attacking us from below! Screams escaped the toppled carriage. Intent on defending the trapped mortals, Sonja tugged on Hecate's reins, reeling the horse around so that she was facing the coach. She drew her silver-plated sword just as, like a nightmare come to life, a berserk werewolf landed on the armored roof of the carriage.
The beast grabbed the shrieking driver with two hairy forepaws and plucked him from his seat as easily as it might lift a child's doll. Before Sonja could come to the mortal's aid, the werewolf hurled the driver to the ground, where the man's skull shattered like an eggshell, spilling his brains onto the muddy earth. A crimson halo pooled around his head. He was killed instantly. She suspected that he might be one of the lucky ones. The beast was not alone. More werewolves dropped from the trees, attacking the carriage and its defenders.
Their barbaric howls competed with the highpitched screams coming from both the coach and the blindfolded slaves, as well as the pitiful wails of the crippled horses. Chains rattled as the terrified prisoners tugged uselessly at their bonds. They couldn't even see what was attacking them, only hear the growls of the monsters.
"Take your positions!" Sonja shouted over the din. Her Death Dealers surged into action. They rallied around the fearless noblewoman, both on foot and on horseback. Ivan and Blasko staggered to their feet, while the remaining horsemen charged into battle.
A werewolf lunged from the forest, tackling a mounted warrior named Erzsi and knocking her to the ground. Roaring, the beast slashed at her armor with daggerlike claws. Blood spurted from torn flesh and metal.
Erzsi screamed her last. The battle had only begun, Sonja realized, and they were already losing. Hot lycan blood sprayed across her face as she hacked and stabbed at the nearest creature. There was no time to recover her helmet; she had only her body armor and sword to defend her. That would have to be enough. The first werewolf dug his claws into the roof of the carriage. Tortured metal squealed in protest as the monster peeled back a sheet of heavy armor plating…. "…we beseech Thee, O Lord, that in the hour of our death we may be refreshed by Thy holy Sacraments and delivered from all guilt and so deserve to be received with joy into the arms of Thy tender mercy…." Inside the carriage, Natalya's parents prayed in unison as all the Powers of Darkness seemed to descend on them from without. Her mother's embroidery lay forgotten upon the floor, along with her father's parchments. Her mother's fingers clutched her rosary beads, which a returning Crusader had sworn were carved from pieces of the True Cross.
Her father had paid a small fortune for the beads, much good they were doing them now. Father's head was bowed in prayer.
Mother's chubby face was white as a ghost. Blood leaked from a cut on her father's brow, sustained when the carriage had tilted abruptly on its side.
Natalya's own bones still ached from the jolt. A bump throbbed at the back of her head. The glass lantern was cracked across its face. "…though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil. Please, God, deliver our souls from the clutches of the Evil One…." Her parents' fervent orisons did nothing to alleviate the girl's terror.
She was only sixteen. She was too young to die. She had never even kissed a boy yet!
"Father…" In the past, whenever her childish imagination had turned shadows in the nursery into lurking specters, her father had always been there to drive her fears away. His warm and comforting presence had been enough to keep the ogres at bay. But one look at his ashen features quickly informed her that she could expect no such deliverance tonight.
Against real monsters, he was as helpless as any other man. The candle sputtered out, leaving them trapped in the dark. No! she despaired. This can't be happening! A wrenching noise came from beyond. Moonlight invaded the carriage, followed by the head of an enormous wolf! A deafening roar filled the darkness. Foam sprayed from immense jaws that snapped wildly at those inside. The beast's rank breath was as hot as Perdition. Mother dived for the floor, but Natalya froze in place, too petrified to move.
Memories of Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf flashed through her brain. She couldn't look away from the creature's cobalt eyes and gleaming white fangs. Its jaws opened wide. The better to eat you with, my dear…. The werewolf lunged at the girl, but at the last minute.
In the blink of an eye, a stranger materialized before them, the air crackling and seamlessly materializing infront of them from nothingness with a twisting motion, accompanied by the same rustling rush of sound.
With a flicker of his hand, Hadrian unleashed a surge of power, propelling the werewolf backward through the air. The forest trembled as the creature crashed into the trees, the impact echoing through the night.
Hadrian looked back and with wave if his hand a glowing circle enveloped the family.
Hadrian yelled," Keep yourself inside the circle, you will be safe."
The father nodded, he saw the man was capable and believed his words and it was the only thing they could do.
While Cowering on the floor, while Natalya and her mother feverishly prayed for their souls, Natalya suddenly remembered the expensive damask gown packed away in her luggage. She had spent hours selecting the fabric for the gown with which she had intended the dazzle the fine gentlemen of Lord Viktor's court.
The finest seamstress in the village had tailored the dress especially for her. How tragic that she would never get to wear it.
The battle was still raging when Lucian rode out of the fog into the heat of the conflict.
A scene of utter chaos and carnage greeted his eyes, which swiftly took in the stranded carriage, downed horses, and embattled Death Dealers. He saw at once that the vampires were badly outnumbered.
Hadrian was keeping the wolves at bay with his magic, while Lucian counted at least a dozen werewolves, with who knew how many more lurking in the trees and undergrowth. His grip tightened on the hilt of his stolen sword.
Searching desperately for Sonja, he did not immediately spy his love. He cursed the fog and shadows for hiding her from him. Where are you, Sonja? Let me know you're still alive! Directly in front of him, an injured Death Dealer was fighting a losing battle against two rabid werewolves, who had him backed up against the mutilated body of his horse.
The overwhelmed vampire slashed at one wolf with his sword, while the second wolf snapped at his legs. Mud and gore smeared the knight's dented armor. One arm hung limply at his side. His sword was broken. The truncated blade was barely the length of a dagger.
Lucian hesitated for only an instant. Although there was little love lost between him and Viktor's soldiers, they needed every ally they could spare if any of them hoped to survive this bloodbath.
Racing headlong down the road, he leapt from the horse and tackled the nearest monster as if it were a runaway hog. Lycan and werewolf crashed to earth together.
Rolling away from the beast, he jumped to his feet and raised his sword. He gripped the hilt with both hands as he swung the blade at the other werewolf's throat. The blade sliced through tough meat and muscle, nearly severing the werewolf's head from its shoulders. A scarlet trail streamed behind the sword like the tail of a comet.
Lucian's brown eyes turned cobalt blue. A fierce growl filled his ears. It took him a second to realize that the growl was coming from his own throat.
While Hadiran started launching fireballs at the wolves, burning down some of them causing them snivel and yelping in pain.
Hadrian didn't stop, he waved his it as though brandishing a whip. As long thin flame flew from his hand and he whipped the incoming wolves.
Unable to see a thing because of the thrice-damned hood over his head, Raze could only listen to the nightmarish clamor all around him.
Once an accomplished warrior and hunter, he recognized the unmistakable sounds and smells of strife. The screams of the dying warred with the roaring of beasts. The air reeked of blood and fear. Death is upon us. His fellow prisoners thrashed and screamed like maniacs, tugging so hard on their chains that Raze had to struggle to keep his balance.
They pulled in all directions, getting nowhere fast. At the head of the line, just behind the carriage, Raze planted his feet on the muddy ground, anchoring himself to the earth. He wasn't about to be yanked blindly into the clutches of whatever creatures were assailing the caravan. Not while he still had an ounce of strength in his body! Despite his nightmarish situation, he refused to panic.
He was the son of a sultan and he would not disgrace his ancestors by being slaughtered as easily as a frightened antelope brought down by a lion. His wits were his only weapons now. He would die on his feet if he had to, while looking his killer bravely in the face. But first he had to get rid of this stinking hood!
Bending his thick neck toward his bound hands, he managed to snag the top of the hood with his fingertips.
He held on tightly to the coarse fabric and yanked his head back. His heart leapt in excitement as his skull slipped free of the hood for the first time in hours. A smooth brown dome crowned his solid features. A short black beard carpeted his chin. He filled his lungs with the fresh night air. Shrewd brown eyes rapidly assessed the ghastly massacre being waged around him. It was even worse than he had imagined. Before his eyes, only a few yards away, a knight in black plate armor was dragged down from his horse by a monstrous black wolf the size of a mountain gorilla.
Raze saw at once that the creatures attacking the caravan were no ordinary wolves; many of them walked erect like men and stood even taller than Raze himself. Werewolves, he realized, recalling eerie tales told by the other slaves while they huddled together at night. It was said that these inhuman predators had once been mortal men…. Sprawled upon his back, the fallen knight flailed at the werewolf with his fists, but his blows smacked impotently against the monster's snout.
Jagged fangs punched through metal as the wolf ripped the soldier's arm from its socket. Bright arterial blood sprayed from the victim's shoulder, splattering Raze and the other prisoners. Violent death throes rattled the knight's useless armor as the werewolf tore him apart limb by limb. His horse stampeded away, only to be brought down by two more werewolves.
The charger's frantic whinnies were cut off abruptly. The knight's blood felt surprisingly cold against Raze's face, more like the blood of a dead man—or an obayifo—than a living warrior. He reached to wipe it away, but the iron manacles weighed down his hands.
Thick links of chain still bound him to the back of the carriage, making it impossible to fight back or flee. Although the werewolves seemed to be concentrating on the armed guards at the moment, Raze knew that it was only a matter of time before they feasted on the slaves as well. Chained, he didn't stand a chance against the bloodthirsty pack. Only with his hands free could he defend himself to the death.
The empty hood dropped from his fingers. Clenching his teeth, he took hold of one of the chains with both hands and pulled with all his might…. Flattened against the floor of the carriage, Natalya, her father and her mother clung to each other as they whimpered in terror.
Another wolf at the roof snapped and snarled, straining to squeeze its shaggy bulk, but they are unable to get the past the circle.
Its claws scraped against the blue glowiing wall.
Natalya was comforted by her father, who knew he was safe. While she squeezed her eyes shut and wondered how much it hurt to be eaten alive. Natalya sobbed piteously.
Sonja was the last vampire still astride a horse. The rest of the Death Dealers had already been yanked to the ground. Her sword cut a bloody swath before her. A crimson stream gushed down the gutter of her double-edged blade. Hecate reared up, striking out at the swarming werewolves with her steel-shod hooves. But for every creature Sonja struck down, two more seemed to burst from the swirling mist. Her azure eyes glowed like balefire.
She was thankful Hadrian was here, since she remembered the smile of young mortal girl. She didn't want the girl to die.
Off to the other side of the carriage, Raze fought for his life against the unyielding chain. Swollen veins bulged beneath his skin. Beefy muscles, hardened by years of backbreaking servitude, strained to the utmost as he dug his heels into the dirt and tugged on the chain until his aching arms and back felt as if they were being torn apart on the rack. His knuckles whitened and the rusty links dug savagely into his sweaty palms. But despite his strenuous exertions, the chain refused to give even an fraction of inch. The trapped slave feared that he wasting the last moments of his life.
When he noticed balls of flames being thrown out and whip made of flames engulfing the incoming werewolf, he was in shock and muttered,"What is that?"
A werewolf leapt from the roof of the carriage, landing a few yards away from Raze and the other prisoners. Its cobalt eyes glared at the hooded captives. Drooling black lips peeled back, baring bloody fangs. Its hackles rose. Raze looked around for help and spotted a bearded stranger wrestling with a wolf near the back of the carriage. No knight, the man wore a tattered leather vest and trousers. His spiked collar looked even more painful than the iron ring around Raze's own throat. The stranger had one arm locked around a werewolf's throat and was struggling to keep out of the way of the beast's deadly fangs and claws while hacking at the monster with a bloody sword. Clearly, he had troubles of his own…. This is it, Raze realized. It was now or never. Freedom or death. Gritting his teeth, he threw himself into one last herculean effort. He yanked hard on the chain attached to his manacles and was rewarded with the sound of a loud snap at the other end of the links. He staggered backward, almost falling onto his rear, even as the ravenous werewolf pounced at him. Gaping jaws offered him a view straight down the monster's gullet. Raze swung the severed chain like a lash. The iron links cracked against the werewolf's skull.
The beast let out a hurt yelp and collapsed to the ground. Its body twitched and fell still. A bloody froth spumed from its jaws. Raze whipped the wolf again and again until he was sure it was dead, then looked up to see the bearded stranger staring at him in wonder. His strange blue eyes took Raze's measure even as he withdrew his sword from the bowels of a fallen werewolf. Steam rose from the monster's exposed entrails.
"Impressive," the man, it was Lucian said. He lobbed his sword over to Raze before returning to the fray.
Rounding the corner of the carriage, Lucian spotted Sonja at last. His heart leapt with joy and relief. Thank the fates she's alive! But before he could call out to her, a werewolf lunged up from out of nowhere and dragged her, kicking and shouting, beneath the earth. In an instant, she disappeared from sight.
"No!"Lucian raged.
He couldn't believe that he had found her, only to have her snatched away from him at the last minute. He raced to where she had been standing only seconds before. The forest floor trembled beneath his feet and he looked down to see a moving hump of dirt shifting below the leaf litter and other detritus like a gargantuan mole. His keen ears heard a snarling werewolf racing underground— straight toward Sonja! Empty fists clenched in frustration. What had he been thinking off, tossing his sword to that defenseless slave? Glancing around for a weapon, he spied an exhausted Death Dealer slumped against the trunk of a skeletal oak. The vampire's ebony armor was liberally splattered with blood, whether his own or his enemies' Lucian could not tell. Without pausing to ask permission, he snatched the soldier's sword from his grip and raced after the burrowing werewolf. His fist tightened around the ornate steel hilt of the weapon.
Thankfully, only the blade was coated with silver. The disarmed Death Dealer shouted in protest, but Lucian wasn't listening. Rescuing Sonja was all that mattered now. If she wasn't already dead. Trapped underground like a prisoner in her father's dungeons, Sonja scooted backward until she bumped into a solid wall of earth. Gnarled roots snatched at her hair. Cold vampiric blood seeped through the jagged gash in her armor. Backed against the hard-packed clay, she fought to keep the hungry werewolf at bay. The cramped tunnel made it difficult to wield her sword effectively, yet she jabbed at the beast's snapping jaws and cobalt eyes, while kicking out at the monster with her spurs. The wolf's huge head ducked and darted, searching for an opening past her defenses. Its hot breath, redolent of raw meat and marrow, sickened her.
She found it impossible to believe that Lucian could possibly be related to such a vile monstrosity.
"Farewell, my love," she thought, "I fear I shall not know your sweet embrace once more."
She winced at the memory of their brief quarrel earlier. It pained her to think that her final words to him had been so cold. Please know that I always loved you…. Despite her preternatural stamina, she felt her strength flagging. The wound in her side burned like fire; blood loss sapped her energy. Her mouth felt as dry as ashes and she would have killed for a fresh flagon of hot cattle blood to restore her vitality. It had been too long since she had last refreshed herself from the castle's slaughterhouse.
Alas, the foul ichor of the werewolves could not slake her thirst. The very thought turned her stomach. Beneath her armor, her body was soaked in sweat. Her dark bangs were plastered to her smooth white brow. The heavy metal plates and chain mail felt as though they weighed at least a ton. The tip of her sword wavered uncertainly as her weary arm strained to hold it before her. Her lungs gasped for air in the claustrophobic confines of the tunnel. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She tasted salt upon her lips. Sensing weakness, the werewolf lunged for her face…. Lucian heard the monster growl. His eyes zeroed in on the telltale hump beneath the soil.
Realizing that he had not a second to spare, he dived forward and buried the blade deep into the ground. A savage howl burst from his lips. Die, hellspawn, die! Sonja swung her sword, but the blade snarled in the hanging roots. Unable to wrench it free in time, she could only throw her head backward against the hard clay wall behind her as the werewolf surged forward to rip her face off. Without her helmet, nothing stood between her and beast's fangs except empty air.
Spittle sprayed her cheeks. It seemed she would not live to be an Elder after all. Just then, when all seemed lost, a silver blade stabbed down from above, piercing the werewolf's skull. Its jaws snapped tight as it convulsed once, then died without a whimper.
The sword pinned the monster's head to the floor of the tunnel. Acrid fumes rose from where the silver seared its lifeless flesh. Sonja blinked in surprise, startled to find herself rescued from certain death. What? How? "Sonja!"