Vengeance

VENGEANCE

There’s a cold wind blowing in from the west, bringing with it the smell of burnt bodies and blood. I crouch on the edge of a cliff, peering through underbrush at the encampment below me. Beside me lies a scared girl, the second best archer in our group, and the only other survivor. The beasts below us slaughtered our party, or more accurately, are slaughtering our friends and comrades as we watch. The men are already dead, their corpses forming the grim pyre at the south end of the valley. The women, the girl’s sister, my lover and my best friend, are being used in more vicious ways than simple death would grant them. I hold these pictures in my mind as I survey the land and tents below. I push away all thoughts, all fears. Tonight is for vengeance.

The girl grips my arm, pulling at me. I see the fear enveloping her wide brown eyes, I know her thoughts. We are outnumbered by a hundred men and we have only two quivers of arrows, two swords, the captain’s sniper rifle, and the sister’s twin .38 revolvers between us. I let her lead me back to our clearing. I hear her out. She sees the look in my eyes. She knows before she even tries that my mind is set. When she is through, I lead her to her position; she will watch my back as I make my way through the camp, my guardian angel. She aims the rifle, measuring the distance through the scope, pushing locks of black hair behind delicate ears. I smear dark brown mud across my face and down my arms to better blend in; I cover my blond hair with black cloth. I strap the guns to my hips, the swords to my back. My knife is secure in my left boot. The moon dips behind the horizon, and it is time. The hour of wrath is upon us.

My body is thin and short, I am light on my feet. My greatest talent has been my ability to disappear into the night, the element of stealth, as the old world used to say. Tonight stealth is that much more important, for the foes that await me are no mortal men. They are gulgrath, vicious creatures with bodies likened to men but the countenances of snakes. They don’t hear sound; they sense the vibrations of the sound with their skin, making them far more sensitive than human ears. They are ruthlessly efficient hunters, powerful and fast; and they wear armor as lithe as their bodies are graceful, and difficult to penetrate. I have fought them before, however, and I know their weaknesses.

Gulgrath are only one of the warped races to rise from the aftermath of the global holocaust forty years ago, when I was merely a student failing out of college, before I became a warrior. Many mutated and genetically altered species arose from the rubble of destroyed cities, farms and small towns saturated in radiation and uninhabitable to all but those already affected. Even worse than those, however, were the evil men who gathered armies beneath them and claimed “protective rights” over miles of land and helpless citizens, effectively crowning themselves “lords” of their domain.

I crept along, belly to the earth, using the underbrush and the deep shadows therein for cover against guards and the vicious veldewulves they use to track and kill intruders. Twice the size of normal wolves, with olfactory senses better than sonar and radar combined, these wolf- hybrids are exceedingly effective at their job. I reached the perimeter of the encampment, checking both sides of me before cautiously passing between two tents. The camp was laid out in rings, from a large outer circle of tents where the lowest class guardians slept down to the inner rings where the acclaimed warriors and highest ranked scientists rested. In the very center was a housing as large as a circus tent, where the leader planned out his attacks, and where female prisoners were kept for pleasuring those held deserving by the commander. It was here I must go to save what remained of my group, if there was enough left of them to save.

A rustling in the tent to my right caught my attention, and I drifted back into the shadows. A gulgrath guardian emerged, holding a long pole with a wicked looking blade on the end. Its eyes searched the spot where I had been, then turned in a slow circle, trying to catch a sense of movement, and as it’s back turned, I swiftly drew my swords. It spun towards me, but my swords were already through its neck, the head tottering, and then falling back as the body pitched forward.

Adrenaline coursed like a poison through my veins, and I had to take care not to let it take over me; I can take them on one on one, but they fight as a pack, and in that I am no match. I hurried along as silently as possible; it would not be long before the body was found, and my element of surprise would evaporate quickly.

I felt a breeze pass by my face, and a figure fell from the shadows ahead of me; a warrior, head shot, a clean kill by my guardian angel. The shot echoed down the hillside a moment later. Then came the baying of the veldewulves, rustling in tents around me as I rushed past, and time for stealth was gone. Shots rang out in quick succession; I was being chased through the camp, and she would run out of ammo soon.

Ahead of me a large warrior snake stepped out of the shadows, planting his feet wide and gripping a sword- pole, raised over his head, ready to strike. I never even slowed down; I slid down, between his legs, jabbing my swords up into his groin as I passed beneath him. If snakes could scream, I’m sure he would have. I rolled right, out of the way of the sword- pole as he dropped it behind him. I was already on my feet as he fell to his knees; a quick chop to the neck ended his pain and his hissing cry for help.

I saw the large tent ahead of me; two warriors and their veldewulves guarded the entrance. I slipped into the shadows so that the guards might not see me; the wulves already had. I sheathed my swords and drew the pistols; the guards released the wulves and they rocketed toward me with incredible speed. I took aim as best I could, firing at their eyes. One fell forward, the body rolling over itself and sliding through the dirt. The other kept coming, leaping as I brought both guns to bear. I fired both into the fleshy underbelly, and rolled onto my back as the mass came down on top of me, using my legs to propel the wulve off of me and back through the canvas of the tent behind me.

I came to a crouch, aiming at the guards as they ran toward me. Two quick shots and they fell to the earth. I ran for the tent, pistols in front of me as I barreled through the entrance. I stopped short; there was no one here. The girls were tied up at the far end of the tent, naked and unconscious, but there were no gulgrath in sight. I warily made my way over to the girls; this was nothing less than a trap. A bottle of smelling salts lay on a small table near the stockades that held the women; gulgrath like their captives conscious as they ravage them. I waved the bottle under Charity’s nose first. She is the sharpshooter and the most help since I had her weapons with me. Her head jerked up as she caught the scent of the salts, and she looked at me groggily. I quickly untied her; she staggered slightly, and then seemed to gather her feet under her.

“Kailen,” she said softly, “are you crazy? You should never have come here.”

I ignored her, busily freeing Gaila. Charity moved to Adrienne, working the ropes loose. We lay them on the floor, passing the salts under each of their noses. As they slowly came around, I searched the area for some type of clothing. I found three large burlap bags in one corner of the tent, and using my knife, made makeshift dresses from them.

As the women dressed, I listened for any sound from outside the tent. Things were eerily quiet, and I had no liking for it. I quickly armed each of them; Charity her revolvers, Gaila and Adrienne a sword each. I moved to a rack of weapons against one wall and chose a broadsword for myself. I prefer my light one handed katana swords, but I can use a two handed weapon when I have no other option.

There was movement outside; the entrance to the tent flew open and a figure was thrown inside, landing hard in the center of the room. It rolled, coughed, and lay still.

“Crista!” Charity screamed, running to her side. “Oh baby girl, what have they done to you?”

She picked my guardian angel up, carrying her limp form back to our group; she glared at me as she passed.

I understood now why things had been so quiet. The gulgrath had hunted out Crista first, planned out this trap before I even breached the perimeter. Those sneaky bastards. Into the tent stepped the head snake, his brown scales shimmering in the dull light of the tent, tongue flicking out of his mouth every few seconds, a low hiss building deep within his throat. He was twice as tall and three times as massive as any other snake I’d come up against. He held a long chain with eight smaller chains attached to the end; each of the smaller chains had pieces of broken bone and glass down the length of it.

I stepped forward, sword at the ready; his tongue flicked out in anticipation. We circled each other warily. I did not look in his eyes; there is a saying that gulgrath can hypnotize you if you look into their eyes. Instead I watched the chain whip; the snake swung it at me, and I dodged back out of reach. He hissed loudly, bringing the whip down again, and I sidestepped, thrusting my sword into his side. The sword found purchase, and a greenish liquid flowed down his leg. I pulled the sword out, staggering backwards right into the whip. It caught in my back, and the snake ripped it out; my vision went red, and I fell to my knees. The snake stood over me, hissing; I thrust up into his gut and twisted. The gulgrath roared with shock, a cry that was abruptly cut off. Puzzled, I looked up; the snake’s head fell toward me, bouncing off my chest and onto the floor. The body fell sideways; behind it stood Adrienne, sword already back in the sheath.

She helped me to my feet; my back felt as though it were on fire. Charity and Gaila were gathered around Crista, who was sitting up, clinging desperately, joyously to her sister. Adrienne looked at my back, commenting that she thought I would live, tearing pieces of burlap to wrap around it and seal the wound.

As a group we exited the tent, and came face to face with hundreds of gulgrath warriors. Veldewulves strained against the chains of the guardians that held them. I threw the head of their leader to their feet; they hissed in rage and confusion, and some in fear. Gulgrath society demands that a ruler command before any action is taken; no raids, no prisoners, not even vengeance for the death of their leader is allowed until a new ruler is installed. The process of finding a leader usually results in the death of most of the strongest warriors as they battle for control, and it takes decades to return to any strength.

The warriors parted, and we walked slowly through them, out of their camp, and up into the hills. The sun rose before us, and we disappeared into the underbrush. We would be miles away and far from the sounds of battle within the camp before sunset. Our group was battered, but we were not broken, and we would never forget the spirits of our dead.