The Crowned Captive

They waited silently, Rowan and Cordan shielding her from either side whilst the line of guards in front of them prepared for the inevitable attack. Her heart threatened to break from its bony cage as she heard the door crash open above. They were completely and utterly silent, Morana’s fear focussing on setting her trembling instead of screaming, as the first clash of metal sounded above. She tried her hardest not to think of her past as the smell of blood filled the air, the cry of pain above them digging into her ears like knives. This was not hiding in fear, this was waiting until somebody more capable could deal with the threat. She was not useless, she was smart.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the thump of a body hitting the floor, followed by another, then a third. From somewhere ahead of them, the first droplet of blood beaded between the floorboards. Then another. She swallowed, frozen as she watched it drip slowly to the floor in front of them. Another thud above signalled another fallen soldier, then another. Then, for a painful handful of seconds, there was silence.

She had expected the ward on the basement door to do something, but she had not expected it to obliterate the creature that opened it. Dust poured down the stairs, stinking of burnt flesh, and then there was a pause as each side of this battle contemplated their next move. It was short-lived, for merely moments later the other four monsters flew down the stairs. Panic-stricken, Morana did the only thing she had been told to and aimed the crossbow at the head of the one with sharpened teeth. The twang of the crossbow rang through the room and she watched with nausea creeping up her spine as it found its mark. The purple-skinned creature fell, its crystalline wings crumpling like paper against the ground and blue blood oozing from the bolt in its brains.

She knew more went on around her, more carnage and death, but she could not take her eyes off the creature she just killed. Horror and sick satisfaction fought within her, neither getting enough purchase to force her to action once more. Even with battle around her, she stared at the crumpled figure, the light leaving its eyes. And then blood, red and warm, dripped from above and landed on her face. Satisfaction won. She loaded another bolt, looking for her next opening. Beside her, Rowan groaned in pain as the sword of one of the creatures flashed past the first line, forcing him to parry. Cordan grunted with effort, returning a jab of his own and finding flesh. His sword came back blue, but the creature did not go down.

Morana cried out as a guard fell to a blade to the neck, spraying her attacker in crimson. She aimed to hit the attacker in the chest, but her bolt was swatted away with a flick of his sword. It clattered to the ground, forgotten, and Cordan stepped forward to fill the space the dead body had left.

In front of Rowan, one of the guards took down another creature in a mutual killing blow, their bodies falling slack against the barricade. The beautiful man stalked forward then, a blade of crimson steel in his hand. Morana had never seen one of such make and was sure it was not just for show. The man grinned at her, swatting away Rowan’s sluggish blow like it was an annoying fly, never taking his eyes from her. Shock hit her then as she recognised his eyes, last time seen above a gag of chain. The man from her dream cocked his head at her, watching her as the carnage wore down to its bloody end around them.

“You know, you could stop all this death by just coming with us peacefully. My master ever so graciously has followed your request to come collect you himself, so let’s cut this mess to an end,” he said, parrying another slash from Rowan.

Morana deigned not to answer in words. Her face contorting in malice, she fired the crossbow a third time, returning the creature’s grin as the steel tip buried itself in his chest. The grin on his face never faltered as he occupied a frustrated Rowan with one hand, still never looking at him, and grabbed the bolt with the other. Morana’s grin faltered as it fell to the ground and the man lashed out properly at Rowan, opening up a tear in the flesh of his chest with merely a flick of his hand. She cried out as Rowan stumbled back, grabbing him to break his fall. She watched with worry as he tried to knit the flesh back together, moving terribly slowly with the extent of his exertion and the iron still in his blood.

“Oh, naughty naughty Morana. I am going to make you pay with that with blood when you are in our grasp. Your screams will be delightful,” he replied.

The last standing guard apart from Cordan moved towards him then, and the man sliced open his throat with a lazy flick of the sword. The crimson blade seemed to drink the blood, it soaking into the very metal as the guard went down. He turned to Cordan then, who stood panting and alone against their foe.

“Stop, Raeth. Killing her friends is not going to win us any favour,” the man she assumed was Draigh said, his voice like power itself. Had Morana not been so exhausted, she knew every hair on her body would stand on end at the words. Raeth sheathed his blade of blood dutifully, stepping back out of reach of Cordan without his face faltering.

“Now, Morana, you have proven rather bothersome tonight. Come back home to where you belonged before your mother so rudely stole you away, and I can promise the little pet vampry won’t harm you or your... friends. You can have him. You can even order him to fall on his blade if it pleases you.” Raeth’s grin soured at that remark.

“If you think I am leaving here of my own free will tonight, you are delusional,” Morana spat, putting the full force of her hatred into the words. “I would never willingly join a menagerie of murderers, you sycophant.”

“I didn’t want to have to do this, just so you know, but you have forced my hand.”

Morana knew what he was about to do before he even began moving. He moved to draw his sword, turning towards Cordan, and Raeth came towards her. She made her choice, though. Freeing her dagger from the sheath against her thigh, she cocked her arm back and let it fly, watching as it twirled end over end as if in slow motion. She let out a sigh of relief as it landed in his chest, narrowly missing his heart. With a sigh, Draigh stopped and grabbed the dagger with his off-hand. He ripped it from his chest, dropping it to the floor like it was some pathetic children’s toy.

“You have got to know that it would take more than that to kill me, child,” Draigh said, drawing his sword the rest of the way and looking at her blankly. Given a moment’s reprieve, Cordan moved to position himself more squarely between both her and Rowan and their attackers.

“It is not my job to kill you today. The paralytic on the dagger likely won’t either, but I can say from experience it is a real bitch.” She could not help the smile that spread across her face then. Much to her surprise, the man snorted, then smiled, looking down at the blood blooming on his chest. He dropped the sword in defeat, the blade clattering to the ground.

“That is a good move, I will give you that much. Raeth, I think we may have to cut our little visit here short before we cannot leave again. Morana, I do hope you continue to surprise me. Unfortunately, I can assure you the third time I come for you, you will either be within my grasp or you will be dead. Do think about that before the next time we meet.”

Morana could do nothing but watch sceptically as he turned, let out a piercing whistle, and began to walk away. Cordan waited until he was sure they were gone before dropping his sword and turning to her and Rowan. Still cradled in his arms, he was painfully pale, barely holding on to consciousness. His skin had indeed knit back together, but something far, far deeper was wrong.

“Please, get a healer. Nobody else can die tonight,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she realised the state Rowan was truly in. Without another word, Cordan leapt to his feet and left. Not knowing what else to do, Morana kissed Rowan tenderly and prayed for Acheros to not take him yet. Death already had enough souls to care for that night.