Shadow Wolf time! This is part of my weekly writing exercise, written raw and rough. The first story arc, Blade Breaker, can be found here. The first story of this arc, Red Fangs, can be found here. The previous week’s post can be found here.
A single sluggish drop of blood, running for from a corpse that was all but spent, lengthened, fighting gravity to the last, and then fell. Landing at my feet.
Many terrible deeds have passed before these two eyes in my time. Even so, even knowing what Cinder was, none of us could have been prepared for what she had done.
For a moment, neither Berkhilda, nor I moved. We were both shocked, I suppose, and Cinder’s goons did nothing to break the spell. I could see them, skulking in the shadows, enjoying our reaction. I could hear them chuckling and licking their lips, eager for more blood even still. I could smell their arrogance.
My voice cut across the silence, loud and pure, filling the rotting warehouse.
“We have come for you Cinder!” echoed Berkhilda.
The shadows nearest disgorge a dozen screaming bloodsuckers. Their eyes were full of madness and their fangs gnashed as they came at us, some running on two legs, others on four, and all of them very fast.
A spindly looking man with a fang filled mouth was the first to come at me, hurling himself like a hunting cat pouncing. I swung my greatsword. His eyes widened, but he could not shift his momentum in the air. The sweet silver arc swept through his emaciated frame, turning crimson, splashing blood on the others.
Behind me, I heard the sound of bone splintering as Berkhilda’s axe met yielding flesh. Something thudded to the ground nearby, the blood seeping through the floor as if being sucked downward.
My sword did not rest, cutting the arm from a one eyed orc vampire and then sending a shrieking woman with a lamprey -mouth staggering back with a jagged cut in her shoulder. One of them grappled me, but I smashed the pommel of the sword into his skull as he tried to lift, knocking him down, then reversed my grip and plunged the blade into his back.
More came. The floors shook as they scrambled over each other to get to us. We fought back to back, Berkhilda and I, corpses piling at our feet.
“Die!” screeched a pair of bloodsuckers, flying at me from the shadows. I cut one down, splashing blood on the ground, caught the other with my shoulder and then decapitated him on the backswing. The head, still screaming arced through the air.
Several of them managed to hit me, but their claws could not pierce my kingsmail.
I suppose that they expected us to be fearful after the corpses on the ceiling, or more likely whoever was coordinating their attack simply wanted to wear us down or delay us.
The floor of the old warehouse was littered with the dead. Responding to some unheard signal, Cinder’s fodder backed out of reach.
“Come now, our blades still thirst!” I snarled after them.
There was surprisingly little blood though, it seemed to seep into the floors below us. No doubt whatever lived in the waters below the warehouse would have a feast tonight.
As I considered this, Cinder appeared on one of the walkways around the floor above us. She was flanked by heavily armed and armoured figures.
“I am impressed Ragnar,” said Cinder. “I mean I did not expect my disciples to kill you two, but your hardly winded.”
“You seem rather jovial for someone who is about to die,” said Berkhilda.
“I had this big speech prepared, but I realized that I hate you so much Berkhilda, that I just want you dead now.”
The floor jumped.I heard a splintering sound from beneath us.
“Come and get me then,” answered Berkhilda.
“Fuck you, here’s a bloodhydra, bitch!” snarled Cinder.
The floor heaved.